


Black Waters, Part 1 - Taking A Dive

by NathanAlmond (NakedOwlMan)



Series: Black Waters (The SLEGWIT Cycle - Book 1) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Brother/Sister Incest, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Flirting, Incest, Multi, Nudism, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedOwlMan/pseuds/NathanAlmond
Summary: The invention of instantaneous, point-to-point teleportation has changed the planet in ways no one could have possibly anticipated. In this new world, characters from multiple walks of life will come to discover that, while there are hundreds of different places to run, there may be nowhere that they can hide.
Series: Black Waters (The SLEGWIT Cycle - Book 1) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608376
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Savage

**Author's Note:**

> I made a thing. I hope you like the thing.

There was a wolf in the middle of the road.

It was a large beast. Ambrose estimated it almost two feet at the shoulders, appearing even larger on account of its fur: a thick covering of matted, mud-stained hair, seeming almost black in the pale glow of the fog-shrouded moon.

It was facing away from where Ambrose had paused in his tracks, the creature focused on something in the distance that Ambrose was unable to make out through the thick evening fog. The massive animal did not appear to be aware of Ambrose’s presence. If he were anyone else, Ambrose would have been wise to flee while he had the chance.

Instead, Ambrose took a step towards it. No reaction from the animal. Another step, and the wolf finally heard the soft pad of his black leather shoes against the dull pavement. Its head pivoted slowly in his direction. Not the quick, panicked jerk of a nervous animal, startled at the approach of a fiercer predator. But the languid swivel of something that feared nothing in this world.

Their eyes locked. Pale, almost white irises with sharp black pupils in the center, fixed on him. He could see the animal tense slightly, sensing that what stood in front of it was something unlike the timid prey it normally stalked. It bared its teeth, massive fangs of the palest white.

Ambrose stopped in his advance and stood still, posture straight and unyielding, betraying no sign of fear. He kept his gaze focused on the wolf’s intense eyes, not allowing himself to even blink.

The beast’s muscles rippled underneath its thick covering of hair, primed to make the first move. Ambrose knew that it wanted to observe him more thoroughly, let its eyes scan over his entire rigid form. Size him up as a threat and, if found wanting, potential food source. But Ambrose kept his fierce stare pointed directly in the wolf’s eyes, not wavering for a second. The animal knew by instinct that this was a challenge. That the first of them to break their locked gaze would show itself as the weaker. The wolf stared, and Ambrose stared back. Neither made a sound.

After a long, tense interval, their standoff ended. Turning to a nearby stand of trees, the wolf darted away, gone from Ambrose’s sight within seconds. Ambrose gazed into the shadows where it had disappeared, feeling the beast watching him from the blackness. Waiting for him to leave, so that it could return to its chosen hunting grounds and await new prey. Ambrose considered dealing with the beast, thinking about what would happen if an individual of less threatening demeanor happened upon the hungry predator.

But in this neighborhood… wolves would be the least of any poor fool’s worries if they were unlucky enough to have wandered here. There were other beasts lurking in the dark. Ones with greater hungers.

Putting the matter out of his mind, Ambrose turned away from the darkened underbrush and continued to walk. He quite enjoyed the feel of the crisp night air, the slight breeze sending gentle, cold caresses against his pale skin. So rarely did he get the opportunity to just walk by himself these days. Most of his time in motion was spent ensconced safely in motorized transportation. And even on those occasions when he could spend time in the out-of-doors, there were other, more efficient methods of locomotion available to him.

But tonight, he walked. And - he had to confess to himself - part of the reason he had chosen this particular night to take to his feet was a desire to delay this particular meeting. He didn’t imagine that it would result in a positive outcome. But he had to try. If he _could_ have another ally in the times to come, it would make him a lot more confident in the odds.

But the one question he dreaded to ask kept rising up in his head: _even if she would agree… what price would she ask of you?_

After a few more miles, the object of his search emerged from the thick evening mist. He held back a sound of disgust when he saw it. She had always been one to make a show of things. And her current place of residence was no exception. A towering edifice of grey, crumbling brickwork, ornamented with sweeping gothic pillars and leering, snarling gargoyles at seemingly every corner. Sickly yellow light blazing out of every dirty, cracked window. And gnarled, long-dead trees spiking out of the sickly green grass, like some sort of vile sickness spreading its tendrils out from deep beneath the earth.

Ambrose rolled his eyes. It was a child’s conception of a haunted house. He half expected to see the lawn dotted with fake tombstones made of foam, carved with whimsical names like “Al B. Bach” and “Imma Deadman.” But he supposed that was a little too much, even for her.

And the bodies wouldn’t be buried on the front lawn. She had other disposal methods.

He made his way up the front walk, the sound of the cool night breeze now mixed with the distant screeching of bats. His stride was determined but unhurried. He wasn’t eager to see her. Quite the contrary. But still… it had been some years now. Perhaps she had changed since their time together. A foolish hope, but one he clung to all the same.

Reaching the large, oval shaped driveway in front of the steep stairs leading up to her front door, Ambrose stopped in his tracks. Turning to face the massive manor, he crossed his arms behind his back, stood up straight, and waited. His eyes fixed on the front door, as he silently counted the seconds until her arrival. There was no need to knock or ring a doorbell. She knew he was here. She probably knew he was coming before he had taken a single step in the direction of her front doorstep.

But she kept him waiting for a while. Almost five minutes of him standing silently, staring at the door, waiting for her to grace him with her presence.

Eventually, the front door opened with a long, echoing creak. Ambrose hardened his gaze, steeling himself to show no reaction as she emerged out into the moonlight.

Even preparing himself for it, however, he could still feel that aggravating twinge in his gut, as he laid eyes on her for the first time in years. Lingering at the top of the front steps, she stared down at him with the faintest hint of a smile.

She was still so beautiful. The long absence from his life had not changed her in the slightest. Hair of the purest gold. Delicate features carved out of the finest Greek marble. She was a creature out of time, like some long-ago noblewoman holding court among her fellow privileged royalty.

It was only the reminder to himself of what resided inside of this heavenly-looking being’s blackened heart that prevented him from rushing forward and sweeping her into his arms. Instead, he stood in place, watching with a stony expression as she slowly made her way down the stairs. He wondered if she had chosen her outfit – an elaborate purple gown festooned with lace and frills – particularly for him, knowing that he would be coming. Or if this is just what she wore around her home on a regular basis these days. Neither would have surprised him.

After an elongated descent down the stairs, taking her time with every individual step as if she relished in his eyes feasting upon her ageless beauty, she stood in front of him. The two stared at each other for a brief moment, and Ambrose remembered that wolf in the street. Eyes locked on his, looking for any sign of weakness. He saw a lot of that beast in her pale, blue irises.

“Well, isn’t this a wonderful surprise?” she finally spoke. Voice high in pitch and with a tone of pleasant invitation. “You should have sent a messenger, my dearest Ambrose. I would have had a feast prepared for you.”

A rueful smirk crossed his face. “Any messenger sent to this house, I imagine I would have never seen again,” he coldly stated.

She gave a rich, delighted laugh in response. Knowing her as well as he did, Ambrose could hear the hint of danger in that laugh. “Of course you would have, don’t be silly. I _did_ say there would be a feast, after all.”

“Charming as ever, Viola,” Ambrose said, disdain thick in his every word.

Viola’s laugh slid into a wistful sigh. “Oh, my dearest Ambrose. So delightful to see you on this fine evening. How long has it been since last we were in each other’s presence? Seven years? Eight?”

“Time does tend to slip away after a while,” Ambrose responded. “Especially for those of our particular nature.”

“You are quite correct, quite correct indeed,” Viola said wistfully, eyes focusing in the distance as if reflecting on some cherished memory. “But we should not allow this particular moment to slip away from us so easily. Come, take the air with me.” She brushed past Ambrose and made her way down the front walk, not waiting to see if he followed. Because of course he would.

After a few steps away from the house, he cleared his throat. “You know why I’m here,” he said, without a hint of a question in his tone.

“I have my suspicions,” Viola responded. “My visionary friend Miss White has delivered certain portents to me over the last few days. It would appear that we stand at the brink of a great upheaval. Agents of cataclysmic change are gathering their forces, ready to sound the final trumpet call and unleash Armageddon. They marshal their strength above our heads, below our feet, and right before our eyes. And even if one threat is defeated, this world will surely be rent asunder by another.”

“Yes. My own sources are telling me the same,” Ambrose responded. “Not nearly so dramatically, of course.”

She giggled slightly. “Ah, so the son of Poseidon is still blowing on his conch, then? And what tune is Triton playing for you, my dearest Ambrose?”

Ambrose turned his head upward, to gaze deeply at the twinkling stars in the pitch-black sky. “I used to think there were no more mysteries left to me in this world,” he spoke with a quiet awe in his tone. “That I had seen everything… come to know everything. But what I knew before was just a single drop in the vast ocean of this world’s true nature. And with the few drops more that I’ve tasted of… I know just how insignificant all of us are.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder. He resisted the urge to flinch at her touch. “Oh, Ambrose… now who’s being dramatic?” Viola wryly observed. “Calm yourself, my dearest. If these enemies are so vast and powerful, then I doubt they will pay us much mind.”

“I’m not so sure,” Ambrose responded, turned to look at her again with a steely gaze. “When a man sees an ant crawling on the ground, he will ignore it most times. Leave the thing to scurry off to safety, and go about his life without even acknowledging its existence. But sometimes… the man stomps the pathetic thing into a bloody smear. Not because the man would ever be threatened by the ant, or even a million of its kind. But just because he could. Just for the sake of cruelty.”

“But the ant can burrow, my dearest Ambrose,” Viola responded, unperturbed. “The ant can hide deep underground. Exist for generations without the man and his kin even catching sight of it. It’s been done in the past. We can do it again.”

“We can,” Ambrose said. “But others cannot. And if we don’t act… what sort of world will be left for us ants when we emerge from our darkened tunnels?”

Viola sighed. “Ambrose, my dearest. What has happened to you? You never used to concern yourself with the matters of the cattle. Whatever happened to that fierce beast I knew once before? Caring for no one. Fearing no one. Taking what was his without regard for how many had to suffer along the way. You do remember those days, don’t you?”

Ambrose gave her a hard stare. “I do. Every day I remember them. And every day I atone the best I can.”

In that moment, Viola’s cheerful façade slipped for just a moment. Her seemingly eternal smile faded from her face. “Why did you come here, Ambrose?” she asked, tone weary. “What did you expect to hear from me? A promise to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you when the flames rise and the people cry out in agony? To fight at your side and risk my existence to save the lives of those vermin?” She spat on the ground, her voice raising in frustration. “You should know that I would _never_ put myself and my family in danger out of some foolish sense of altruism. If the dark times come and the war begins, you will not find me down in the trenches. Not in a thousand years would I be so foolish. I will do what I have always done, and enjoy the pleasures of this world for as long as I am able. And if your Triton blows his tune true, and this world is to undergo a seismic shift… then I will protect myself and my family, and nothing more. But should my efforts be insufficient, and my end is fated… then I will accept what is preordained.” She gave the slightest shrug. “Nothing lasts forever, despite how it seems sometimes. And if I cease to exist in the next few weeks, or even the next few hours… I will go into oblivion knowing that I experienced every last moment to its fullest. Can you say the same, Ambrose?”

Ambrose inhaled deeply through his nostrils, turning away from Viola to hide his disgust. “I suppose you’re right. This was a mistake coming here. I guess I just hoped that you had changed in these past few years.”

With that, Viola’s placid cheerfulness returned to her tone, as she spoke to him like a parent instructing a particularly slow child. “My dearest Ambrose… change is for _them_. For the vermin. Not for us. You used to understand that, not so long ago. Perhaps, when one of those great powers comes to sweep aside this world and replace it with another, you’ll understand it again. Until that time comes…” She tittered, the sound grating on Ambrose like broken glass driven into his brain. “Well, as the saying goes, you know where I live.”

“At the very least, consider what I have said. You may not care about what happens to this world, but I…”

He heard a rush of air behind him. He turned to where she had stood, only to see a cloud of white smoke, which melded with the evening fog and quickly drifted away back in the direction of the estate.

“Even after all these years… always have to get the last word, you hateful bitch,” Ambrose muttered. 

Reaching into the silk-lined pocket of his overcoat, he withdrew his cellular phone. His fingers tapped on a well-used icon on the glowing screen, and it wasn’t long before he heard the familiar whirring sound in the distance.

He stood and watched as it approached: looking somewhat like an oversized, motorized skateboard. A flat metal plane with four tiny wheels, a mere five inches in height, speeding down the street straight in his direction. It came to an abrupt halt next to him by the curb and, with a quiet efficiency, it began assembling itself. Two metal poles swiveled out from a compartment on the base of the device and moved upright, locking firmly into vertical position and reaching six feet in height once fully extended. Then, from out of the tips of the metal rods, a series of small plates unfolded and joined together, tiny clicks as each moved into position. Once the operation was done, the device had formed itself into a perfect archway, the entire process taking five seconds at the most.

Once it had finished assembling itself, the device started emitting a low hum. A vortex blazed into existence inside of the archway, forming an eerie spiral of purple and blue.

Without a moment of thought, Ambrose stepped through the archway, and was gone. Just as quickly as it assembled itself, the device folded back together, and quietly sped away into the night.


	2. Learning

The video began with a lengthy trumpet fanfare, followed by a gleam of light that moved across the screen to form a word: “SLEGWIT.” After a moment, words faded in above and below the massive acronym to form the full title: “Introduction To The SLEGWIT System: Connecting Your World.”

Inside of the darkened classroom, Casey Maxwell could hear people yawning and shifting in their desks. He wasn’t surprised. Like most of his classmates, he had seen this video many times before, from back in first grade all the way up until now, sophomore year in high school.

Mr. Franklin had started class today by simply turning on the video, hitting the lights, and walking out of the classroom door without a word. If Casey had to guess, he was probably off in the teacher’s lounge, getting a much-needed cup of coffee and taking a break while forcing his students to watch this snooze-fest yet again.

The title faded, and on screen came a familiar face. A friendly, round-faced woman in a lab coat. Her straight black hair was tied back in a tight bun, and her hooded eyes looked out at the viewer through rectangular-framed glasses.

“Good day, students!” she started, her voice filled with cheerful enthusiasm. “I am Dr. Miana Xing. Today, I’m here to tell you the remarkable story of something that most of you probably take for granted.”

The camera pushed out to show that Dr. Xing was standing beside a familiar metal platform resting on four wheels.

“The SLEGWIT portal,” Xing said, gesturing down at the portal. “You see it everywhere. All of you probably used one to come to school today. I’m sure all of you know _what_ it does: transports any matter – be it living or inanimate - across miles of distance to another portal at your destination, in a fraction of a second.”

On cue, the portal began rapidly assembling itself. Once the archway was constructed, Xing stepped inside, and vanished in a brief flash of light.

The camera panned across the room to another, already prepared portal, where Xing emerged with a beaming smile. “But have any of you wondered _how_ such a remarkable device came to become part of your daily lives?” Xing asked. “Well, wonder no more! Today, I will tell you the story of how I, along with the brilliant minds at One Planet Technologies, developed this amazing feat of scientific marvel. Come along with me, as we take a look at the wonders that can be achieved through years of hard work and experimentation. As we say around here: it’s not a dream. It’s not a miracle. It’s just… SLEGWIT.”

Yup. Casey remembered that line from the last time he saw this video. So cheesy.

Looking away from the television and glancing around the classroom to occupy his mind, Casey observed some of his fellow classmates. He didn’t know most of their names; after all, he had only transferred to this school last month. But there were a few he was familiar with. Yvette Black, with her frizzy dark mass of brown hair and thick black-framed glasses, staring down through her huge round glasses at one of those dusty old books she always carried around with her. Although the room was darkened, he could still detect her moving her lips as she ran her finger along one of the lines of strange, arcane text. Her careful study was only interrupted by a paper airplane suddenly lodging itself into her wild, unkempt mane. Reaching up to yank it out, she turned with a frown to the source of the projectile: Gavin McClendon, the blond-haired wrestling team captain, who laughed along with Sarah Joyson, his girlfriend and head of the cheerleading squad. Casey quickly turned away and back to the video before they noticed him staring. The two were the biggest jerks at Wellspring High School, and Casey didn’t want to be the next target of their attention.

He turned back to the video, where Dr. Xing was running down the familiar lesson. “For many years, I and several of my colleagues were focused on uncovering the secret of matter transportation. Moving an object, atom by atom, from one location to another, without the need to physically occupy any of the space in-between. While we were able to crack the dilemma of how to relocate inanimate matter from place to place with relative ease, the stumbling block came with the teleportation of living beings.”

Casey hated this part. Even after seeing it so many times, he could never get over the images that appeared next: a couple of monkeys sitting limply in place, eyes staring blankly ahead. Alive… but somehow not alive.

Xing’s narration continued over the images of brain-dead primates. “Our first test animals came through on the other side in one piece… but something was missing. They were still breathing, their hearts were still beating, but they were just… mindless. What we eventually determined was that, while every single atom was still in the right place, there was something that wasn’t coming along with the corporeal body. This… _thing,_ this essence of life itself, was what we eventually came to call SLEG: The Sentient Life Energy Gestalt.”

The video shifted back to Xing, Casey grateful to not have to look at the brain-dead monkeys anymore. “Now, you may not be familiar with that last word, but in a lot of ways, it’s the most important word of all,” Xing explained. “‘Gestalt,’ to put it simply, means something that is more than the sum of its parts. Think of it like a computer: we could move all of its individual parts from one location to another, but without energy to power it, to make it function… it’s just inanimate matter. SLEG _is_ that energy, that spark inside of every living thing that makes you who you are. And before we could even hope to begin transporting living beings successfully, we had to solve the mystery of…”

Getting bored again, Casey glanced around for any other familiar faces. He noticed Elle Friedman, one of the few students actually focused on the video and taking copious notes. She was relatively new to the school as well, having transferred in at the start of the term, but seemed to have adjusted fairly well to Wellspring already. It was weird: she seemed pretty nice, and had already made a few friends from what Casey could tell. But still, he kept hearing people whisper about her. He wasn’t sure what it was they were talking about, but whatever it was, he noticed that people like Sarah and Gavin tended to avoid her whenever they could.

“…with the mystery of how to preserve SLEG in the transportation process finally solved, we rolled out our first prototype of SLEGWIT,” Xing said on the TV. “Or to give it its full name: The Sentient Life Energy Gestalt Worldwide Instantaneous Transport.” Xing laughed. “Quite a mouthful, isn’t it? And a lot of people were hesitant at first. As a matter of fact, we had so many difficulties convincing anyone to use the device after so many failed trials, that the first test subject for the final prototype… was myself. I won’t lie to you: even after so much effort and research, stepping through that portal for the first time was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. But… it worked. And before long, everyone was using my SLEGWIT portals.”

How much longer was this stupid video? Casey’s attention was drawn away again, this time by the muffled sound of loud music coming from the back corner. Casey pivoted in his desk to see Annie Longman and Rayne McDowell in the back corner, the two of them having pushed their desks together to share a pair of earbuds playing some loud song, softly nodding their heads to the beat.

The two of them weren’t the only punk fans at the school, but they were definitely the most noticeable: Annie with her spiked black hair and studded leather jacket. Rayne in her white shirt with the anarchy ‘A’ in fake spray-paint and torn black hose worn under a red plaid skirt. As Casey watched them enjoy whatever new track Annie had downloaded, he tried to think of any point since he’d come to this school that he had seen either she or Rayne by themselves. But no, as far as he could tell they were taking all the same classes together, ate lunch together, and spent every moment at school in each other’s company. For all he knew, they even went to the bathroom together.

Even now, as they noticed him staring, they both smiled and, in almost perfect unison, flipped him the bird. Taking the hint, he turned back to the video.

On screen, Xing was now standing next to a CGI map of the world, with fifteen different points connected with lines crisscrossing each other. Each was labelled with a city name, and a year below in parenthesis.

“The adoption of the SLEGWIT system was slow at first, but soon my portals appeared in city after city. Until we created what is now known as ‘The Network,’” Xing said. “My SLEGWIT portals may seem miraculous, but they do require a good amount of power and other facilities to function properly. So, while we would love to eventually connect the entire world with these portals, for now we have built the necessary infrastructure in fifteen key locations, allowing effortless and instantaneous travel within and between these cities. Our proud Network spans across the globe, connecting a vast array of peoples and cultures. From the bustling boroughs of Chapel City, to the impossible wonders of Tanglewilde, to the rustic jungles of Huaca Brava. So many connections made in the past 25 years… and we hope to make even more over the next 25 to come.”

Casey was taken out of his bored funk, as something Xing said struck him as odd. He tried to remember back to the other times he had seen this video. Or at least, he had _thought_ it was this video. But it couldn’t be: he remembered all the news stories when Huaca Brava was added to the Network… that happened just five years ago. This video had to have been made more recently than he thought. But, as he stared at the image of Dr. Xing on the screen, it finally occurred to him what was so odd.

It was why he had assumed this was the same video he had seen back in grade school. While his memories of that time weren’t the strongest, he knew that he had seen her explaining the SLEGWIT system multiple times back when he was a kid. And every time she looked exactly the same: a young, attractive woman with a tight bun, rectangular glasses… and not a single wrinkle around her wide-set eyes, or anywhere else on her face.

Maybe he was remembering it wrong. Maybe it was a different woman in those older videos. Because this couldn’t be the same one who was working on the SLEGWIT portals for more than 25 years now. She looked like she was 25 herself, barely 30 at the most.

No… he had to be remembering wrong.

“Thank you for listening, and sharing in the wonders of my SLEGWIT system,” Xing said, giving the intended audience a warm smile. The camera widened out to show Xing now flanked by a large crowd of men and women in matching lab coats. “Myself and the team here at One Planet Technologies hope to bring just as many amazing feats of science in the years to come. Technologies that will be shared across the planet to ensure that you, your families, and generations to come will experience the best possible lives. Because when it comes right down to it, we are all part of the same whole. One hope, one vision…”

And on the last line, the entire group joined Xing in saying in unison, “ONE PLANET!”

No sooner had the familiar logo for OPT come on screen, than the door to the classroom opened, the lights came up, and Mr. Franklin stepped inside. “Alright, hope you paid attention,” he announced, while plopping down a stack of freshly-photocopied papers on his desk. “Time for your quiz on the video you just watched.” As groans echoed across the classroom, a satisfied smirk came to his face. “Oh, did I forget to mention there would be a quiz?” Franklin asked rhetorically, and with an exaggerated “cool” voice said, “My bad!”

* * *

God, Mr. Franklin was the worst. Not even a multiple-choice quiz, he actually made it a fill-in-the-blank test. Despite all the times he had seen that video, or some version of it, Casey had forgotten pretty much all of the specific dates and terms that their sadist teacher had expected them to remember. Sighing as he left the classroom, thankful that at least it was the last class of the day, he spotted Elle loading up her backpack at her locker, getting ready to head home. As he walked in her direction, he heard the voice of the principal over the PA: “All faculty and staff, please proceed to the auditorium for a brief meeting. Thank you!”

“Hey,” Casey called out to Elle, and she looked up hesitantly, not sure if she was the one being spoken to. When she saw Casey approaching, she nervously reached up to brush a strand of her straight red hair out of her face. “What did you put down for question 3?” Casey asked her.

“Oh, uh,” Elle thought for a second, laying a finger on her chin. “The one about the second city added to the Network? Pretty sure it was Eagle Bay.”

“Really?” Casey said. “Damn, I thought for sure it was Sommerset Beach.”

Elle smiled slightly. “Think Sommerset Beach was the eighth one, actually. But you were close! Maybe he’ll give you partial credit,” she said, tone full of false hope for him.

“Ah, thanks, but I’m pretty sure I bombed it,” Casey said, shoulders slouched in defeat.

Elle reached over to give him a friendly pat. “Aw, don’t worry about it. Thing you have to remember about Franklin… he loves giving quizzes. You can pretty much expect one every single class after the first week or so. With so many of them, failing one probably won’t affect your grade too much.”

“You think so?” Casey asked, and Elle nodded. “Well, hope you’re right. ‘Cuz I…”

His next words were cut off by the sudden grip of an arm from behind him, wrapping loosely around his neck. “Gotcha, fuckface!” said a mischievous voice behind him. “Sleeper hold, bitch! Do you tap?” The grip tightened slightly, but still not enough to actually hurt. “Do you tap?”

Laughing, Casey slapped on the arm around his neck several times. “I tap, I tap. You win the title.”

The grip released, and Casey turned with a smile to see Chester Wright. The two of them had been paired as lab partners not long after Casey had transferred to Wellspring, and after they had bonded over their shared fandom for professional wrestling, he ended up being one of the few actual friends Casey had made at his new school. Despite his love of the “sport” and its well-built participants, though, Chester was definitely no Gavin McClendon: tall and skinny for his age, he got most of his exercise from playing video games, and probably couldn’t even out-wrestle Casey’s grandpa.

“Hey, you coming over to watch the pay-per-view at my place tonight?” Chester asked. With a leering grin, he put an effeminate tone in his voice. “Just think of it: 70 inches of 4k high definition man-meat, so crisp you can see every individual drop of sweat on those rippling… bulging pecs.” Rubbing his own chest with a smirk, Chester gave Casey a sultry look. “Mmm, bet it gets you hot just thinking about it, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, you watch the same shit I do, weirdo!” Casey said with a laugh, giving Chester a light shove. “Let me check with my grandparents, but I’m pretty sure I can come over.”

One of the other nice things about being friends with Chester, aside from him being a pretty cool guy in general, was that his family was loaded. His dad had a massive house right on Sommerset Beach, and watching anything on that expensive TV of his felt like staring into another reality. Plus – and he would never say it to Chester in a million years – Casey definitely didn’t mind getting to hang around and check out Chester’s step-mom, in that hot Sommerset Beach weather and those loose-fitting, low-cut shirts she usually wore to beat the heat.

“Sweet!” Chester responded, then asked in a mocking tone. “Say, you want to invite your new friend?”

Casey wasn’t sure what he meant, but then remembered his previous conversation. Although Chester had phrased it jokingly, Casey decided that it was worth a shot. Getting up his nerve, he turned around. “Hey, Elle, you like wrest…”

But Elle had already walked away.

“Oh, shit, were you really going to ask her?” Chester asked, surprised. “Didn’t think you would actually do it.”

Casey turned back to Chester, confused. “Okay, dude, spill it. Ever since I transferred here, I keep hearing people talking about Elle. But nobody will tell me what her deal is. What’s so weird about her, anyway?”

Chester shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at the back of his head. “Well… not sure if I should say anything. Wouldn’t be PC and all that. But the thing about Elle is… well, I heard she…”

But before Chester could get the words out, Casey heard a soft thud and a muffled squeal of pain to his right. He turned to see Yvette Black on the ground, the armful of weathered books she had been carrying scattered across the hallway. A few laughs could be heard, but none louder than Anika Arriaga, one of Sarah Joyson’s girl squad and, from where she was standing, probably the person who had stuck out a foot to trip Yvette.

“Aw, did the little geek girl hurt herself?” Anika said sneeringly, watching as Yvette fumbled to gather up her books. “Here, let me help you with that,” she said, before rearing a foot back and kicking one of Yvette’s aged tomes halfway down the hall. Right to where Sarah and Gavin were standing, watching the situation play out with amused smiles.

“Ew, what is this crusty piece of garbage?” Sarah sniffed, quickly moving her foot away from the aged book as if it carried some sort of disease. Seeing Yvette approaching rapidly, having gathered up the rest of her personal library, Sarah snatched the book up off the floor just as Yvette’s fingers brushed against it. “Oh, is this yours?”

“Give it back!” Yvette demanded, voice quivering as she tried to snatch the book away.

Sarah held the book up out of Yvette’s reach. “Just a minute. There’s that big book report due tomorrow, and I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to write about.” She turned to her boyfriend. “Gavin, you think maybe this would be a good book to use for my report?”

Gavin grinned at her. “I don’t know. We’d have to read it first.”

“Alright, let’s see what it’s about,” Sarah said, turning her back to Yvette and cracking open the weathered pages. “Ooh, what’s this? ‘Matter Alteration Spells. With these incantations, the caster can change the basic form of matter from one substance to another. Simply prepare a potion of…’” She turned back to Yvette with a wide, open-mouthed grin, mockery dripping from her every word. “Oh, that is so _cute_! You’re trying to become one of those casters like Kyron Collins, aren’t you? You think maybe he’ll make out with you if you learn to do a little magic?”

“Give it back!” Yvette said again, trying her best to take the book out of Sarah’s hand, but obviously afraid of grabbing it too roughly, for fear of damaging the aged tome.

“Well, miss powerful wizard, why don’t you make me?” Sarah said, obviously enjoying her little game. “Cast a hex on me. Take over my mind and force me to give it back. Or better yet, call up some ghost to possess me. Come on… show me your magic!”

“Please,” Yvette said, and Casey could hear the tears she was trying to hold back. “That book… it’s really old. You could…”

Sarah arched an eyebrow. “I could what… damage it?” she asked. Holding up one of the pages, she started pulling, the aged paper not taking much effort to tear. “You mean like this?”

“No!” Yvette yelled out, now openly crying as she watched Sarah start ripping a page from her book. “Stop, stop, please stop!”

Casey watched this playing out in mute horror. Why was nobody stopping this? All of the teachers were still in that meeting, but shouldn’t one of the twenty or so students watching this be doing something?

Should _he_ do something? Say something? But what could he do? If he tried to stand up for Yvette, they’d just make fun of him too. Gavin would probably kick his ass and make him look like a loser in front of everybody. But as he watched Yvette breaking down into tears, he silently begged someone to put a stop to this.

And just then, as if in answer to Casey’s hopes, a new voice was heard. A wry, low but undeniably feminine tone, one that caused everyone in the hallway to turn their heads.

“I’d be careful there, Sarah. Think I read somewhere that the dust on those old books can cause a nasty rash when mixed with spray tan.”

The people in the hallway moved aside, watching in fascination as Ember Connolly approached the ongoing bullying.

Ember Connolly. She was… Casey had tried to get a handle on the strange junior, but it seemed like even the Wellspring locals who had known her for a lot longer couldn’t tell him exactly what her deal was. The first thing, obviously was her fashion choices. Most students here wore the standard stuff: t-shirts, hoodies, blue jeans and khakis. Even the punks and skater kids pretty much wore the “uniform” of their chosen sub-culture.

But not Ember. Ember, without fail, came to school in… whatever the hell struck her fancy that day, apparently. Today she was wearing a loose-fitting men’s white dress shirt, dark grey slacks, and a green and blue tie hanging loosely around her neck. And the hats… always with the hats. Today it was a panama, bright white with a black hatband.

It was actually fairly mundane for Ember; Casey still remembered the day she came to school in a full pirate costume… and not even close to Halloween.

And besides her dress, there was the girl herself. Both her hair and eyes were dark brown, almost black at a casual glance, and her features, while not exactly gorgeous, were the kind that stuck in your mind. She definitely wasn’t a beauty queen like the blond cheerleader she was approaching at the moment, but still… there was just something about Ember that drew your attention whenever she was in the room. Despite this, she never seemed to hang with the popular crowd… or any crowd at all, really. She just did her own thing, and didn’t seem to pay much mind to what anyone thought about her.

And it was this attitude on display at the moment, as she walked boldly up to Sarah, staring the head cheerleader down with a cocky, confident smirk.

“Oh, look who it is,” Sarah said mockingly, pausing halfway in the process of tearing out one of Yvette’s pages. “Ember the freak. Is this your girlfriend, Ember?”

“Ember?” the other girl asked, sounding confused. “Who’s Ember? Don’t you know who I am?” With a jerky motion, she pointed a finger in Sarah’s direction, eyes narrowed as she spoke in an over-dramatic tone. “I’m an angry spirit, summoned by your destruction of this magical tome. Beware, for I have come here to wreak vengeance on you and your loved ones for generations to come. Mwahahaha!” Ember let out an overblown, cackling laugh, before interrupting it with a raspy cough. Seeing Sarah and Gavin staring at her in total confusion, Ember slapped a palm to her forehead. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not making myself clear, am I? Here, let me try it in a way you would understand.”

Striking a pose with her fists on her hips, Ember cocked her head to the side, putting a cheery smile on her face. “Ready?” she chirped out. “Okay!” Bouncing up and down, Ember put her hands in the air, clapping and waving a set of imaginary pom poms as she chanted. “I’m a spirit! Yes, I am! I’m a spirit! Now you’re damned!” Turning around to the gawking students, she called out. “Alright, everyone! Gimme an H!” When no one responded at first, Ember waved her hands in frustration. “Come on, people! I can’t do this by myself! Show some spirit for this spirit! Now, gimme an H!”

This time, a few students actually dared to respond. “H!” they called out.

“Gimme an E!”

“E!” more students chimed in now.

“Gimme an L!” Ember cried out, wide grin still on her face.

“L!” now even Casey found himself joining in.

“Gimme another L!”

“L!”

“What’s that spell?” Ember asked the crowd of students.

“HELL!”

“What’s that spell?”

“HELL!”

“Where’s she going?”

“HELL!”

Sarah watched this all play out with a bland, mildly annoyed expression. “Is this supposed to be, like, funny or something?”

“Funny?” Ember said, filling her voice with feigned anger. “You would dare to call my curses ‘funny,’ foolish mortal?” Ember balled her fists. “Oh, that does it. Now you’re going to get my most fiendish curse of all. One which will condemn you to… to… to never rise above a 75 IQ! And to get knocked up at senior prom and… end up a 300 pound whale, living in a trailer park. Spending every day getting beat on by your drunk, unemployed husband, screaming at your five bratty kids in public, and taking out your frustrations on retail staff by asking to see their manager!” Waving her hands in some silly motion, she spoke threateningly. “Here it comes! Here comes the curse!”

Thrusting her hands forward in Sarah’s direction, Ember paused, waiting expectantly for something to happen. “Huh, weird,” she said, staring at her hands. Eventually, she glanced up at Sarah with a shrug. “Looks like that curse didn’t change anything about your future after all. Well, guess we’ll try something a little more mundane. How about the Curse of Hava… Hava… Hava…” Ember trailed off, glancing away from Sarah and repeating the same nonsense word over and over again, as if trying to remember something.

Sarah looked at Ember in annoyance. “God, this is so lame. What are you babbling about? Hava what?”

“Have a drink,” Ember said. And with a quick motion, she snatched a nearly-full bottle of soda out of a nearby student’s hand and, as the assembled crowd gasped, flung the liquid right into Sarah’s face.

With a shrieking cry, Sarah flung up her hands in shock. Yvette’s magic tome, now slightly stained with drops of soda, fell from her hands and tumbled to the ground. Yvette let out a pained moan as the ancient tome hit the floor hard.

“You bitch!” Sarah cried out. “You’re gonna pay for this!” As several students started to laugh, Sarah turned and rushed off. Gavin quickly followed, shooting an angry glare at Ember as he headed off after his soaked girlfriend.

“Here, sorry,” Ember said, turning to the former owner of the soda and reaching into her pocket to pull out some change. “You heard the lady: guess I gotta pay for this,” she said, grabbing him by the wrist and slapping the coins in his palm.

As the students dispelled, realizing the show was over and that school had been out for a while now, Ember glanced down at Yvette, the distraught girl on the floor furiously scrubbing at the soda on her magic tome with the sleeve of her thick purple sweatshirt. “Hey, hope your little spell book didn’t get too messed up,” she commented casually. With a shrug, she added. “Meh, bet there’s some sort of neat little cantrip to fix it in there. _Poppus Eradicatus_ or something.”

Looking at Ember with eyes red with tears, Yvette snatched up the stained tome and the rest of her books and quickly hurried away. Ember turned to watch her flee with bemused surprise.

“Alright then, nice talking to you!” Ember called out after the fleeing girl. As students start to hustle past her to the front doors of the school, Ember made a surprised grunt as she was run into from behind.

“Hey, don’t stand in the middle of the fucking hallway, dumbass,” Rayne McDowell snapped at Ember, before rushing to meet back up with Annie.

Ember rolled her eyes. “Yeah, grr grr, fight the power, rebel girl,” she snarked. “God, this place is just the worst,” she muttered under her breath before heading for the exit as well.

Chester let out a nervous laugh, obviously held back during everything that had just occurred. “Shit, that was nuts, huh? You see the look on Sarah’s face when Ember threw that drink at her? Thought for a second she was about to shoot lasers out of her eyes like that one finishing move in Death Battle 5, melt Ember into a bunch of bloody goo.”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, that would have been wild,” he numbly responded.

“Well, I’m gonna go wave my magic wand in the men’s room before taking the portal home,” Chester said. “Hopefully I’ll see you tonight. Maybe Janie will make us some nachos if she isn’t busy saving the planet or whatever.”

“Sure, dude, sounds good,” Casey said glumly. Right at that moment, the PPV tonight was the last thing on his mind.

He was so pathetic. Yeah, Ember handled the situation. And if she hadn’t saved the day, a teacher would have come in eventually to break things up. But still… why hadn’t he done something? He wished he had a spine. He could have done something to help poor Yvette. But instead he’d just stood there, useless.

What he wouldn’t give to actually be a hero for once.


	3. WICKED INTERLUDE: Cleaning Up and Getting Dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wicked interludes are optional, erotic scenes, not necessary to follow the plot of SLEGWIT. If you have any triggers or other content you find objectionable, scroll to the bottom of this page for content warnings; if the listed content is not to your liking, feel free to skip the above scene. Otherwise, scroll back up and enjoy!

“That… that little bitch!” Sarah was still raving as she slammed open the door to the ladies locker room. “Thinks she’s so cool with her stupid outfits, acting like she’s better than everyone else!” Heading over to a row of sinks, she began running hot water in one of them. “I oughta sue her. That’s what I should do! Yeah, sue that bitch for assault. Anika’s next-door neighbor is a lawyer. I should get my parents to hire him and sue the Connolly’s for all they’re worth.”

Tentatively, Gavin poked his head in the door. Seeing his caution, Sarah rolled her eyes. “How many times have I told you, Gavin?” she groused. “There’s no ladies team practices on Wednesdays.” As she whipped off her pop-stained sweater and ran it under the stream of hot water, she added with a suggestive tone. “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gavin responded, stepping into the locker room and letting the door shut behind him. “Just… the last time, I could have sworn I heard someone in here.”

“You worry too much,” Sarah said, as she laid her dripping sweater on a bench nearby to dry. Reaching down into the water with both hands, she splashed her face, rinsing away the sticky soda. Feeling at her long straight blond locks, she stuck out her tongue. “Ugh, she got it in my hair.” As the pretty cheerleader ran her dampened fingers through her hair, she shot glances over at Gavin. “You’re just like my dad sometimes, always worrying.” She lowered the register of her voice and spoke in a mocking tone. “’I won’t have you bringing any boys around here. You know they only have one thing on their minds, right?’”

Stepping in Sarah’s direction, a smirk came to the bulky wrestler’s face. “Yeah, he’s definitely wrong about that. Because I can think of at least two things on my mind right now,” he said, eyes moving from Sarah’s lily-white bra visible through the arm holes of her sleeveless top, to the sensual round curve of her ass, jutting out temptingly from the slightly-bent position Sarah was standing in.

Glancing over at Gavin with half-lidded eyes, Sarah nibbled on her bottom lip. “I really need to stop taking classes with you. I’m going to end up getting myself in trouble.”

“Really?” Gavin asked, leaning against the sink next to the one Sarah was rinsing herself off in. “What kind of trouble?”

“When Mr. Franklin turned down the lights and left,” Sarah said, batting her sparkling blue eyes at him, “I was thinking how much fun it would be to reach back under your desk, unzip your fly, and pull out your cock in the middle of class. Give you a handjob right there, while everybody was watching the video.” She let out a wicked giggle. “Can you imagine?”

“My naughty girl,” Gavin said warmly, moving to stand behind her and reaching around to slowly lift the front of her tight denim skirt. Sarah squealed as his meaty fingers found the front of her white panties, rubbing against the cotton fabric and stroking the warm folds underneath. Sarah leaned back against his bulky form, staring in his eyes through the mirror in front of them as she pushed her hips forward into his stroking digits. A cocky grin spread across Gavin’s face as he could already feel her warm wetness dampening the sheer fabric underneath his deft fingertips.

“Would have… have loved to see the looks on their faces if one of them had caught me jerking you off,” Sarah said, pivoting her hips around to direct Gavin’s touch to her most sensitive places. “Looked over and got a good look at me playing with that big cock of yours. Like Gail, I heard her telling… mmm… telling some other girls a few days ago that her boyfriend Nick’s is only, like, four inches or something. If she saw what _my_ boyfriend had between his legs… she probably would have fainted.”

His hand now sliding down underneath the dampened fabric against her crotch, Gavin gave Sarah a hurt look in the mirror. “Hey… you saying you’re only going out with me because I have a big dick?”

“No… but it is a bonus,” Sarah said. As his fingers found their way into her warm, wet inner folds, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth in a blissful smile. “A very… _very_ big bonus.” Sarah laughed, while Gavin started sliding her dripping panties down her thighs. “Oh, my God! Forget Gail… what if that geek Yvette had seen me playing with your cock? I bet she’s never even seen one before! Probably would have gotten scared and run off to join a convent… or whatever those weirdo spellcasters have.”

* * *

A very odd coincidence, Sarah’s words at that moment. As no sooner had she finished speaking, then the outer locker room door leading out to the playing field opened. Cautiously, crouched over and moving as quietly as possible, Yvette Black stepped into the room, keeping the doorknob twisted to make sure the click of the latch springing into place wasn’t heard as the door shut behind her. She paused to lay her armful of magical tomes down on a nearby bench, before slowly making her way around the row of lockers at the far end of the room.

Despite how upset she had been, Yvette had definitely noticed which direction Sarah and Gavin had headed after that girl Ember had made her big scene. Several times before today, Yvette had seen the two of them sneak into the girls’ locker room when they thought no one was looking, and Yvette had a good idea what they were up to in there. So, after gathering up her grimoires and manuals, and cleaning the soda off as best as she could, Yvette had doubled back and headed out of the back entrance of the school, rounding the corner and making her way along the play field to the outer locker room entrance. The boys football team was out practicing that afternoon, but with the rigorous drills Coach Henries was running them through, and their helmets obstructing their vision, none of them caught sight of her as she snuck back inside.

“Mmm, you’re so wet, Sarah,” Yvette could hear Gavin saying, and poked her head around in time to see the blond-haired wrestling star crouching down beside Sarah, sliding her panties past her ankles and, with a quick raise of one foot then another from Sarah, removing them completely. He took a moment to raise them to his nose and inhale deeply, eliciting a laugh from Sarah.

“You’re so weird,” Sarah said, before wiggling her bare ass in her boyfriend’s face. “Why waste your time there, when you can get as much as you want right here, stud?”

“Sounds good to me,” Gavin said. Sarah bent herself down low, resting her chest against the sink in front of her, and the change in posture put her pussy on full display. Gavin wasted no time, taking an ass cheek in each hand and gently pushing them apart before moving his face in position. His tongue moved up and down the line of Sarah’s vaginal slit, the half-naked cheerleader making perky little coos as her boyfriend licked every last inch of her wet folds.

Yvette watched in awe. She had seen stuff like this before on the internet. Quite a few times, actually. But this was the first time she had ever seen something like this live and in the flesh – pun not intended. Leaning against the lockers, off to the side of the two fornicating teens in a place they weren’t likely to look, Yvette cautiously reached down to the waistband of her jeans, fiddling cautiously with the snap until it popped open. Her eyes remained locked on the two attractive blondes in front of her, watching with lips parted and her breath coming in long, heavy gasps as her hand slowly slid down inside of her pants.

“Fuck… fuck yes,” Sarah girlishly squealed. “Lick that pussy. Lick it all up, baby.”

The well-built athlete did as commanded, slathering the dripping cheerleader pussy in front of him with spit as he licked her like an ice cream cone. After a few minutes of clumsy but eager cunnilingus, he pulled away from her crotch, the glisten of her feminine juices evident on his face.

“My turn now,” he said with a grin as he got back up to his feet, his hand rubbing the growing bulge in his jeans. “You ready to suck it, babe?”

“Mmm, ready and eager,” Sarah said, standing up straight with a slight bounce as she turned to face him. “Get that big bad monster out for me, baby. I’ve been missing it so much all day today.”

Gavin quickly complied, unfastening his belt and sliding down his blue jeans. Yvette watched as Sarah sank down to her knees, lovingly tracing the tips of her fingers around the thick mound straining against the fabric of Gavin’s briefs. With a quick tug, Gavin’s thick, throbbing cock bobbed into view, and Sarah gave it a few slow strokes, staring up at Gavin with a crooked smile as she ran her hand up and down the length of his sizable manhood.

Yvette stared in awe at Gavin’s prick. It seemed so much bigger in real life than the ones she’d seen on her computer screen late at night. As she watched Sarah slowly stroke up and down its length, Yvette’s own hand was down inside of her unfastened jeans, fingertips busily dancing against her sensitive clit as she watched the two bullies get each other off. In the back of her mind, she worried a little about what would happen if they caught her like this. But any thoughts of consequences for her voyeurism were quickly driven from her mind. All she was focused on was the vulgar, sweat-soaked tableau in front of her.

“Unh, stop teasing me,” Gavin moaned, as Sarah continued to work her fingers along his engorged shaft. “Just do it already.”

“Do what, baby?” Sarah said, acting innocent… or as innocent as she could while jerking on Gavin’s thick cock. “Whatever would a sweet, virginal little cheerleader like me do with such a big, juicy hunk of meat?”

Gavin winced. “Just suck it already.”

“How rude!” Sarah said, enjoying the frustrated look on Gavin’s face as she prolonged the anticipation as long as possible. “You could at least say ‘please.’”

“Urgh… please, please, please for the love of God, suck my cock already!” Gavin moaned, the sound of his desperation sending a pleasurable shudder through Yvette in her hiding spot.

Sarah let out a sigh. “Oh, fine. But just because you asked nicely.” Shifting her fingers down amidst the fine blond curls at the base of his shaft, Sarah parted her lips. Slowly, she slid her mouth down and around the head of his prick. Her tongue moved in lazy circles around the tip of his throbbing monster, while she continued to stroke languidly along the length of his veiny shaft.

Yvette breathed heavily as she watched Sarah suck Gavin off, two fingers working down inside of her pussy now as she spied on her classmates. Most of the time they were her tormenters. The people she hated the most. But right now… it was like they were putting on a show, just for her. In her mind, she wasn’t just watching them. She was _directing_ them. In her fantasy, the lust that had driven them to sneak away to have sex wasn’t just the natural result of their attraction to each other. Yvette imagined that she had commanded them to do it. Compelled them forcefully into doing her bidding, putting on this carnal show for her enjoyment alone, like puppets on the ends of her strings.

“Yes, mistress,” she imagined them saying in her mind. “You instruct and we obey. What else would you have us do to entertain you, benevolent mistress?”

“Fuck,” Yvette silently commanded in her mind. “Fuck for me.” Reaching up with her other hand, Yvette grabbed the hem of her thick purple sweatshirt and yanked it upward. Freeing one of her breasts from the cup of her plain brown cotton bra, she played with one of her average-sized tits, while her other hand continued to keep busy down between her legs. What a sight she would have been if one of them had caught a glimpse of her in the back of the locker room. But in her current state of extreme arousal, she didn’t even care. Her head was swimming, and her mind was filled with thoughts of nothing but lust and possession, and the power that she imagined she wielded on these two sweaty lovers.

“Fuck for me,” Yvette commanded mentally again. And in that moment, Yvette briefly had a thought that her imaginary powers were real. Because just then, Sarah stood up from sucking Gavin’s cock, rested her palms on the edge of the sink behind her, and hopped up to sit on the cold porcelain. Slowly, she spread open her legs, revealing the bare snatch underneath her skirt, glistening with arousal and her boyfriend’s saliva. Raising a hand, she crooked a finger at Gavin in an open invitation.

Gavin wasted no time. Taking hold of his cock, slick with Sarah’s spit, Gavin gave the head a few quick rubs against the folds of Sarah’s labia, before slowly sliding it partway inside of her. Sarah let out a surprised gasp, Gavin’s thick manhood still a little painful to her. But when Gavin’s eyes met hers in a silent question, she nodded frantically, and he pushed the rest of the way inside.

Yvette watched as Gavin began slowly moving his hips, gently fucking Sarah in a way that Yvette would almost think of as somewhat romantic, if it wasn’t the two worst people in existence doing it with each other. In her mind, as her fingers worked busily inside of her jeans, Yvette tried to mentally will Gavin to go harder. Make it rough and savage. Make her feel it.

Make it hurt for the bitch.

But this command, if Gavin had any notion that it had even been given, was ignored. Sarah wrapped her arms around Gavin’s neck, and her legs around his waist, as he continued tenderly thrusting inside of her. Their faces moved together in a passionate kiss, as Gavin’s cock slowly filled her over and over again.

“That’s it,” Sarah gasped as their lips parted. “God, I love the way you fuck me, baby! Don’t stop.” She bit her lip and said after a brief hesitation, “you can go a little faster…” Nodding, Gavin slightly quickened his pace, which elicited a delighted coo and laugh from his girlfriend.

Back in her hiding spot, Yvette was just about ready. She could feel her climax approaching, three fingers now thrusting inside of her warm wetness, while her thumb moved forcefully against her needy clit. Feeling her gasps start to turn into moans, she pulled one of her hands away from her bared breast long enough to bite down on her finger, muffling her heated cries as her climax hit. Spasms wracked her thin frame as she fell back on her ass to the floor, nerve endings firing off in her body over and over again.

Meanwhile, the other two people in the room were reaching the apex as well. “You want it? You want me to cum inside you, baby?” Gavin asked, the strain in his voice signaling how close he was to finishing.

Sarah nodded. “Yes,” she breathed, legs crossed tightly around him, locking him in place between her thighs. “Give it to me. Do it inside me.”

Gavin threw his head back, face contorted, as he buried himself balls-deep inside of his cheerleader girlfriend’s pussy one more time. Sarah let out a giddy squeal as she felt the warm flow of Gavin’s jizz filling her insides. Gavin groaned, low and satisfied, as his massive cock throbbed and spewed inside her.

Once it was done, the two of them heaved out ragged breaths as they recovered from their climaxes. Shuddering a bit, Gavin pulled away from Sarah, his now limp prick slipping out of her satisfied slit and dangling lewdly down against his sweaty thigh.

“Shit,” Gavin said between heavy breaths. “That was amazing, babe.”

“Yeah,” Sarah gasped. Reaching down between her legs, she felt the warm flow of Gavin’s load dribbling out of her pussy. “So glad my mom let me get on the pill and isn’t all weird about sex like my dad,” Sarah said, bringing her hand up to her face to stare at the sticky white fluid coating her fingers with a lazy smile. “Can’t imagine not being able to have you cum inside me like that.” Sliding off the sink onto her feet, Sarah sneered. “’Knocked up at senior prom.’ What does she know? Nothing. Stupid bitch.”

Gavin gave his girlfriend an incredulous stare. “You’re really still thinking about Ember Connolly right now? After what we just did?”

Sarah sighed, giving him a nod. “Yeah, you’re right. Screw her. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of taking up any more real estate in my head. Anyway, she wishes she could have a man as good as I do. Assuming she’s even into dudes. Of course, no guy would ever…”

This made Gavin laugh. “You’re doing it again. Come on, we should go hit the shower together. What would your dad say if you came home like this?”

“I know, right?” Sarah said, chuckling as she glanced down at herself. “Walking in the door sweating like a porn star, with your cum still dripping out of me? He’d go ballistic. Come on… I’ll scrub you if you scrub me.”

“Good deal,” Gavin said, and the two of them laughed together as they rushed off to the shower area, both of them discarding their remaining clothing as they went.

Doing her best to recover her composure, Yvette quickly put her own garments back in place. It was time to move. She hadn’t just come here to creep on her classmates, after all. She had other, more important tasks to complete.

Trying her best to move quickly and quietly at the same time, Yvette made her way to the sink where Sarah’s ass had rested mere minutes before. Reaching to her shoulder, she removed her backpack and quietly unzipped it. Inside, mixed in with her textbooks and folders, was a small leather satchel, decorated with several arcane symbols. The fasteners came open easily enough, revealing a vast array of small glass vials and containers, as well as the proper tools for filling them up.

Her eyes scanned the sink, locking immediately on several long strands of blond hair. Perfect. Pulling out a set of tweezers, Yvette carefully grabbed one of the strands, tucking it down into one of the larger vials and sealing it with a cork. The same with another one. “Couldn’t hurt to have extras to work with,” Yvette thought to herself.

Next, she pulled out a small square of fabric, rubbing it against the white porcelain and soaking up as much of the sweat still clinging to the sink as possible. Once the cloth had absorbed as much of the damp remnants as possible, she withdrew another vial and squeezed the cloth above it. One or two drops, more than enough for what she had planned for it.

Next, the clothing. Finding Sarah’s sweater hanging nearby, Yvette searched for any sign of a loose thread. Eventually spotting one on the sleeve, she delicately pulled it from the garment, and down it went into another vial.

Then came some of the nastier work: wrinkling her nose, Yvette picked up Sarah’s wet panties from the tile floor. She gripped the crotch in her fingers and squeezed hard, managing to wring a few drops of the cheerleader’s vaginal fluids into another empty vial.

One last sample to gather, probably the most important. Getting down on her hands and knees, Yvette searched until she found it: a few drops of the thick white fluid that had dripped from Sarah’s snatch onto the floor. Pulling out a small metal scraper, Yvette gathered up as much of the semen as she could, carefully lifting up the wet fluid and depositing it into a glass vial. After she was satisfied that she had gotten up as much as she could, Yvette corked the bottle and carefully deposited it in her satchel, along with the rest of the collected samples.

And just as she placed the last of her spoils safely away, she heard the sound of bare feet slapping against tile. Heading right in her direction.

“Where’s your locker again?” Gavin called back to Sarah, as Yvette tensed and her eyes went wide in panic.

“Ugh, I just told you,” Sarah’s voice called out from the showers. “End of the row in the back, my name’s on it.”

Yvette quickly slammed her satchel into her backpack, moving as fast as she dared to avoid being heard. The back door was all the way on the other side of the room. Crouched low, she moved between the wall and the sides of the rows of lockers, keeping out of sight and hoping she could reach the door before Gavin got there.

“Right, got it,” Gavin said, and Yvette froze as she heard his footsteps again, closer now. She sat back against the side of the row of lockers, trying her best not to breathe. She couldn’t go out the door now; Gavin would see it open from where he was in the room. She would have to wait until he went back into the showers.

The naked wrestler made his way down the back row, eyes scanning the tops of the lockers until he found Sarah’s. “Got it. What am I looking for again?” he asked as he swung the door of the locker open.

Meanwhile, only a few feet away on the other side of the back locker row, Yvette huddled herself up, legs pressed into her chest as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

“My moisturizing body wash,” Sarah yelled out from the showers. “Green bottle with the blue top. Can’t miss it.”

“Body wash, body wash,” Gavin whispered to himself, rooting around in Sarah’s locker. “Blue bottle with a green top?”

A disgusted groan from Sarah in the distance. “No, dumbass! That’s my herbal shampoo! I _said,_ green bottle with the blue top!”

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” Gavin muttered under his breath. “Girls and all their… soapy stuff, I dunno.”

From where she hid, Yvette fought the urge to let out a hysterical laugh, as Gavin suddenly started singing softly, to the tune of some old cartoon show theme. “Oh, body, body wash. Where are you? You’ve got some skin to clean now. Blue top and it’s green. Come out for me. ‘Cause Sarah wants to… ah! Got it!”

“Finally!” Sarah yelled. “Get your ass back here, already!”

Yvette forced herself not to sigh in relief. She could hear Gavin turn to walk away, and was ready to make her move to the door, when she heard the sound of his damp feet on the locker room floor pause abruptly. Daring to glance around the lockers, she saw Gavin’s muscly back and bare ass, as the naked wrestler stared at…

Oh, no! Oh, shit, oh, no! Her books! Yvette had left them on a bench when she’d come in from the outside entrance. Gavin was staring down quizzically at the pile of ancient, leather-bound tomes. Yvette snapped back into hiding as Gavin started looking around the room in confusion. As she heard Gavin take a step in her direction, she held back the urge to scream in panic.

“Hello?” Gavin asked softly. “Is someone here?” Teeth gritted, shaking hands gripping her knees, Yvette heard herself make a quiet, fearful whimper, as Gavin took another step in her direction.

“What the hell? Did you get lost?” Sarah called out from the shower.

“Hey, babe?” Gavin responded. “Was there…” he paused, trying to decide how to phrase the question on his mind.

“Would you shut up and get back here!” Sarah exclaimed. “I’ve got this spot that I just can’t reach. Think I’m going to need you to pay extra close attention to it.”

Gavin hesitated for a second more, then grunted. “Eh, whatever. If someone’s here… hope you enjoyed the show, perv,” he muttered, before turning back around and making his way back to the showers.

Yvette waited until he was out of sight before ducking out from her hiding spot, snatching up her magic tomes, and opening the door out to the practice field to make a rapid escape. She heard somebody yell out, “Run, geek girl, run!” from the field, but didn’t pause in her mad dash out to the front of the school. Only after she had tapped on her phone to summon one of the rolling SLEGWIT portals, stepped through the swirling light, and found herself in front of her house did her heart finally stop pounding in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: Consensual sex between underage characters


	4. Exposure

Looking down at her phone, Clio checked the SLEGWIT coordinates again. Compared it to the text she had gotten, and then checked again.

No. This had to be it. The ad had said “Roommate Needed: Comfortable Living in Converted Lighthouse.” And that was definitely a former lighthouse rising up into the cloudy sky in front of her. But that wasn’t what was confusing her. It was what was below the dark blue spire that was giving her pause.

“’Comfortable living,’” Clio mused to herself. That was one way to put it. Like how you could call a blue whale “a bit on the large side.” This place was massive. Not a mansion, but almost as large as some of the faculty buildings back at Ethridge University. And modern-looking as well, with rectangular plate glass windows, unmarked brickwork, and a large in-ground swimming pool illuminated with underwater lighting visible in the back. If they had “converted” this place from an old, abandoned lighthouse, the “conversion” must have left nothing from the original structure except the tall tower blotting out the early evening sun. And even that had been repainted and touched up to mesh better with the rest of the outside edifice.

Quite a sight, especially considering the building and its origins. From the research she had done before coming, Clio knew that the original structure had been built almost 50 years ago near the water on Tangsehl Island, a small land mass just a few miles off the coast, near the city of Vierraden. The building had fallen into disrepair in the past few years, like many of its counterparts, as the pinpoint accurate GPS system developed by One Planet Technologies made navigation by any other method on the water a thing of the past.

But obviously someone had come in and cleaned the place up some. And due to the building’s former function, it was situated in a prime location. Turning left, Clio could see the city of Vierraden in the distance. Once a small little hamlet, the town had experienced rapid growth since it had been added to the SLEGWIT Network 8 years ago. As the sun sank lower, brushing against the rolling hills on the horizon, she could make out the bright twinkle of street lights starting to illuminate.

Once upon a time, there had been a ferry running between the city and Tangsehl Island; now, with those handy little teleporters buzzing around everywhere, Clio wasn’t surprised to glance down from the tall hill where she stood to see a once well-used dock, now shuttered and in obvious disrepair. Progress in action.

And turning around to the right… Clio felt her breath catch in her throat, as she saw the wide, open expanses of the ocean in front of her. It hadn’t been the first time she’d seen the sea in her twenty-two years on this planet. But even now, it still filled her with awe, as she stared out over what looked like the edge of the world in front of her. She had spent most of her life with her view of the horizon obstructed by the thick trees that surrounded her home in Huaca Brava. And even after she’d moved away from home, her time spent at Ethridge had kept her busy with her studies, with only a few opportunities to visit other places and see what the world had to offer.

But at this moment, looking out across the rolling water, a thought came to her mind. Corny, but it almost brought a tear to her eye just the same: _This is your world now, Clio. Wide open and filled with so many opportunities. There’s nothing stopping you from being whoever you want to be now. Your path forward is clear._

“Wish I’d brought my camera,” Clio said under her breath, a small tremor in her voice as it all hit her at once. Of course, if things went well today, she’d have all the time in the world to get as many pictures as she wanted of this gorgeous vista.

It was all too perfect. This house, this place… she’d only been here for a few minutes, but she knew already that she just _had_ to live here. She hadn’t even stepped through the front door, and already she felt like this place was everything she could have possibly wanted.

Which made it all the stranger that the rent quoted in the ad was so ridiculously low. When she’d seen the monthly rate on the listing, she had honestly expected to come here to find a crumbling, barely-standing relic of an old forgotten age. A run-down shack with a few beds and couches thrown in to call it a house. Needless to say, her expectations were way too low. She had no idea who actually owned the building, but whoever it was, they had to be taking a loss on this place.

But none of that mattered to her now. Now, she had to get these butterflies out of her stomach and get ready for what came next. Her mission, even more vital now that she had gotten a good look at her potential new home, was to smile, make good conversation, and prove to these people that she would be the best roommate they could have ever dreamed of. Now that she had seen this place in person, she had to imagine that the number of respondents to the ad was massive. Who _wouldn’t_ want to live in such a gorgeous house, with such an amazing view? Yeah, there was probably a long line of people waiting for their chance at this place. But Clio was determined now to do everything she could to be at the head of the pack.

She took a step in the direction of the front door, then paused. Breathed in deeply through her nose, exhaled through her mouth. “Okay, you’ve got this,” Clio told herself. Took another step, then paused again. Fumbling for her pocket, she pulled out her phone and opened up the camera app, putting it in selfie mode to make sure she was looking alright.

Staring back at her was a terrified-looking young woman, with dark bronze features, brown hair trimmed into a very short pixie cut, and light make-up applied to her cheeks and lips. She fingered the top edge of her pink, spaghetti-strap blouse, wondering if she should have dressed up more for this.

With the camera app already opened, Clio decided to snap a quick selfie. “Either a memory of the day when you got to live in your dream home,” she thought to herself as she smiled nervously, and the digital shutter sounded, “or a reminder of how hopeful you were before it all came crashing down.”

After another deep breath, Clio forced herself to continue walking up to the house’s front door. “Alright, game face on,” she said, raising her finger up to press against the doorbell. Slowly, unable to make herself move any faster, she gradually applied pressure, until the button finally moved inward and the doorbell chimed inside.

“Just a second,” said a cheerful woman’s voice from inside. So far, so good. After a short wait, the door opened, and Clio was greeted by a beaming, well-tanned woman with a curly mane of blond hair.

“Clio Quaday?” the woman asked.

Clio nodded, giving the woman her best smile. “That’s me, yep. Sorry if I’m a little early.”

“No, not a problem!” the woman responded. Grinning from ear-to-ear, she stepped across the threshold and moved straight for Clio. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Oh, okay,” Clio exclaimed, mildly uncomfortable as the woman unexpectedly moved forward and wrapped her up in a warm hug. Maybe a little _too_ friendly, but Clio could roll with it. Awkwardly, she returned the embrace.

“Sorry, guess I should introduce myself,” the blonde said with a laugh, as she pulled away and crossed her arms under the sizable swell of her chest. “Don’t mind me, I’m always getting things out of order like that.” Raising one hand to rest it lightly on her upper chest, she said, “Isabella Abel.”

“Right, we talked on the phone,” Clio said. “I have to admit, Isabella, that when I saw the ad, I certainly wasn’t expecting this place to be so… gorgeous.”

Isabella nodded, glancing over her shoulder at the jutting tower of the lighthouse behind her. “Yes, it’s definitely had a lot of work put into it. But I’m sure you’ve seen enough of the outside. Come on in. Let me show you around and see if the place is to your liking.”

“At this point,” Clio thought as she walked inside, “the inside of this house would have to be, like, constantly on fire for me to not want to live here.”

Stepping through the front door, any worries that the interior would make Clio fall out of love with this house died immediately. The inside of the house was just as beautiful and well-decorated as the exterior. They had stepped inside into a wide-open sitting room, with several comfortable-looking couches and end-tables decorated with potted plants. The hardwood floors were partially covered with a couple of exquisite woven rugs. Several lovely and detailed paintings had been hung on the light-green painted walls. A sweeping staircase led to the upper floor, with ornate, hand-carved bannisters.

And to top it all off, a warm fireplace crackling away, as if quietly taunting Clio, _Fuck you, you thought this place couldn’t get any more fucking cozy? Here’s a motherfucking fireplace for that ass._

Isabella must have seen the look on Clio’s face. “I take it you like it.”

“I… love it,” Clio responded, staring up at the high ceilings with unrestrained awe. She briefly considered that maybe she shouldn’t make her affection for the place quite so obvious. It came to her mind that perhaps this was just an elaborate con. They list a low rent in the ad, then once you come in and fall in love with the place, they add in all the “extras” that make up the _real_ cost of living there. Or they tell you that part of the rental agreement is that you have to participate in their multi-level marketing scheme.

But she couldn’t help it. This house was so wonderful, it was all Clio could do not to burst into tears at the thought of being able to live here.

“Follow me, this way is the kitchen and dining room,” Isabella said. “So, apologies if it’s a rude question, but I can’t help but notice a trace of an accent. You wouldn’t happen to be from Huaca Brava, would you?”

Clio nodded, walking with Isabella through the high archway leading into the dining area. “Born and raised. Lived there all the way up ‘til I went to college.”

“Must be quite a change of scenery, I imagine,” Isabella said. “What brings you here from all the way down there?”

“Well, when the SLEGWIT portals came to… oh, my God, this dining room!” Clio interrupted herself as they entered the next room. “Is that table mahogany?”

Isabella gave the long dining table a quizzical look. “Could be, not sure. Most of this stuff came with the house. Me and Lara haven’t really changed much.”

The mention of the unfamiliar name sparked Clio’s memory. “Right, the ad did say two roommates. Is Lara here? I’d love to get to know her.”

For the first time since she’d met Isabella in person, Clio saw her friendly demeanor slip just a little. “Right, yes. I’m… sure she’ll be happy to meet you, too,” she hesitantly answered. “She’s upstairs right now, but I assume she’ll be coming down soon, though.” Darting her eyes back to the arch they had passed through, and the staircase leading up to the second floor, Isabella hastily redirected the conversation. “So, you were saying about when the SLEGWIT portals opened in Huaca Brava.”

“Right, yeah, when my sleepy little village got its big taste of the wider world, my parents didn’t waste any time,” Clio explained, as she followed Isabella into the kitchen and marveled at the modern appliances. “My father especially said to me, ‘You’re going to go out there, you’re going to go to a good college somewhere far away from our little town, and you’re going to make me and your mother so proud.’ He always was the type to push us like that. Always asking if we could do better, making sure we never slacked on our schoolwork or avoided doing our chores. The kind of dad that you could hate sometimes as a kid, but when you’re grown up, you realize how valuable that kind of pressure really is.”

“Sounds like a great family,” Isabella said.

Clio laughed. “Great in every sense of the word. I think part of the reason Dad pushed us hard to move away was that he was getting sick of having so many of us filling up that tiny little house back home. It got pretty tense at times, growing up with a sister and three brothers.”

Isabella whistled. “Wow, five kids. I can’t even imagine dealing with one.”

“Yeah, well, thanks to OPT and their portals, we’re all over the place right now,” Clio said. “Janie’s married and living on Sommerset Beach. Tobin’s out trying to get his music career started in Aspen Plains. And my twin brother Amedeo is looking for a place and getting ready to start his new job in Chapel City soon. Just my youngest brother Matteo left at home, and once he’s done with high school, I’m sure…” Clio paused, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, this is probably boring to you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Isabella said with a comforting smile. “It’s nice that you have such a close family. One good thing about being on the Network, you shouldn’t have any problem visiting them whenever you want.”

“Right, it’s pretty convenient,” Clio responded. She paused, not sure if she should bring up the topic after already droning on so long. But finally she spoke up. “You know… it’s something I’ve always wondered. There’s plenty of cities that have been vying to get on the Network. Some of them have been petitioning OPT for more than a decade to get added. But then, out of nowhere, they connect up our tiny little village. From what I read, our local government wasn’t even _trying_ to get on the Network, but Dr. Xing comes down for a few days, and just a month later they made the announcement.”

“I remember, yeah, everyone was saying it was very unusual,” Isabella said. “But that’s Dr. Xing for you. People say that sometimes brilliant people like her do things that might seem illogical, or even insane. But years down the line, once it all comes together, we’ll wonder why it wasn’t obvious at the time.”

Clio nodded, although something about Isabella’s answer didn’t quite ring true to her. “Well, at least it gave me the opportunity to see this amazing house, if nothing else,” Clio said, while once again internally chastising herself for gushing too much. “There’s got to be some sort of catch, right? The landlord isn’t, like, a raging hell-demon or something, are they?”

This brought a sharp, surprised laugh out of Isabella. “No, no, not nearly!” she quickly said. “You… you probably won’t notice the landlord too much. Part of the terms of living here is that we basically manage most things on our own.”

“Really?” Clio said, wondering if she was finally starting to get wind of one of the potential negatives of this place. “So, they don’t come to, like, do repairs or check up on the place or anything?”

Isabella shook her head. “Not really. But we have the numbers of some good repairmen and plumbers, and our landlord worked out a deal with them where we get pretty cheap rates. So it’s not too bad. Plus, we have regular gardening and lawn-care service, so no worries about pushing around a lawnmower or that sort of thing. Speaking of which, you want to see out back?”

“Sure, sounds good,” Clio said, although she was hoping to get a better look at where she would actually be sleeping soon. At this point, she was worried that they’d lead her down into the basement and point her to a burlap cot. But even then, Clio would probably still sign on the dotted line if it came to it.

“So, you mentioned on the phone that you just graduated from Ethridge University,” Isabella said, as she opened the door leading out to the back yard. “What were you studying?”

“I was an arts major,” Clio said. “Graduated with a BA in Digital Photography.”

Isabella nodded, looking impressed as she held the door to the back open for Clio. “Photography! How interesting!”

“Yeah, my mom got me a cheap little plastic camera back when I was five, and ever since then I’ve seen a lot of my life through a lens.” Clio couldn’t help but let out an appreciative sound as she saw the placid waters of the large swimming pool. “Ooh, I bet that feels so good when it gets hot around here.”

Isabella nodded. “Very refreshing, yeah. We’ve got the pool, a hot tub, and a grill for when we barbeque. Summers around here are pretty nice. So, photography… what sort of stuff do you take pictures of?”

“Oh, pretty much anything,” Clio said. “Portraits, nature shots. When my brother Tobin started playing shows, I used to go along and snap pictures from the crowd. He ended up using one of my shots on the cover of his first EP. And some of the pictures I took of the locals back home were featured in an OPT-sponsored art exhibition about ‘Diversity in the Network.’ That’s where Midpoint Media saw my work. Guess they liked what they saw, because they made me an offer pretty much right after I graduated.”

“Must be exciting, working at one of the biggest news websites,” Isabella said.

Clio exhaled deeply. “Exciting… and a little terrifying, too. They definitely made it clear that I’m going to be kept busy. Might have to keep odd hours some nights if they need me for a late-night story. But I’ll try my best to keep things quiet if I have to come home late.”

Isabella gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t even worry about it. Me and Lara have… similar situations to yours. We both have jobs with unconventional work schedules. You’d fit right in if you ended up living here.”

Clio chuckled slightly. “God, there I go again. Spent all this time babbling on about myself. So, what do you do, Isabella?”

“I work for a talent relations team,” Isabella quickly answered. “We partner with the agencies of various actors, musicians, athletes…” she laughed. “You know, basically anyone who has the kind of money to afford paying for their own agent. And we use our various connections with brands and local businesses to get them whatever they need. So, when you were talking about odd hours… I know how that goes. Honestly, I might end up getting a call at 3:00 am from work, saying some world-famous singer wants a ten-foot, swan-shaped ice sculpture delivered to his penthouse within the hour, and it would be my job to make it happen.”

“Wow, exciting!” Clio exclaimed, and internally winced as she feared she was sounding like too much of a kiss-ass. “Who’ve you worked with lately? I’d love to hear some stories.”

Raising a hand, Isabella waved a finger. “Unh unh. Part of the reason my firm is one of the most popular is that we keep all of our work under a strict confidentiality agreement. We pride ourselves on being able to provide _anything,_ assuming it’s legal of course. But even some of the legal stuff, well…” she gave Clio a knowing smile. “Let’s just say our clients wouldn’t want to see some of their requests in the headlines of Midpoint Media.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Clio quickly said. “I never would have asked you if… I would never expect you to break an agreement with…”

“Clio, Clio, chill,” Isabella reassured her. “You didn’t know. We should get inside. Starting to get dark out, and I don’t want to keep you here too late. I’m sure Lara will be coming down any minute to meet you.”

Following Isabella inside and back to the main sitting room, Clio glanced up the stairs. “You sure she knows I’m here?” she asked. “Maybe you should text her or something.”

This elicited a weary sigh from Isabella. “Lara… kind of does things at her own pace. Texting her would just make her… well, it wouldn’t help. I’m sure she’ll be down soon. Come on, I’ll show you the living room. You like movies?”

“Sure, I guess,” Clio said, not wanting to seem disagreeable as they stepped into the living room. Truth was, she tended to feel antsy just sitting around and watching something for longer than a few minutes. She was much happier up on her feet, seeing new sights and documenting them with her camera. Matteo had always been the couch potato of the family, and if he could have seen the massive TV hanging on the wall of this place’s living room, he would have parked his ass right on the thick foam sofa cushions across from the flat-panel screen, and not gotten up for at least 8 hours.

“Have a seat. We’ll wait for Lara in here. You want something to drink?” Isabella asked, as Clio deposited herself into a high back chair, facing away from the doorway leading back into the main entrance hall.

Clio didn’t want to be an imposition, but she was feeling a little parched. “Um, water is fine, thanks.”

“I’ll pour you a glass, be right back,” Isabella said, hurrying away back to the kitchen.

By herself in the living room, Clio settled into the tall chair, sighing in contentment. God, this room was just as amazing as the rest of the house. She might have to change her policy on taking the time to sit around and relax, if she could enjoy furniture this well-made and comfortable. This room… this whole house… everything was just perfect. And while she hadn’t met both of the residents yet, Isabella seemed like the best kind of roommate: friendly, a good listener, and with an interesting job.

Maybe after they got to know each other, Isabella might let Clio meet some of her celebrity clients. “Oh, you need someone for a last-minute photo shoot,” Clio imagined Isabella saying in her mind. “I know the perfect woman for the job.” Just the sort of connections that Clio was looking for, to really get her name out there as one of the premiere photographers on the entire Network.

And… well, Clio had to admit to herself that she wouldn’t mind meeting some of those celebrity clients of Isabella’s for other reasons. It had been almost eight months now since she and Jake had broken it off, and she was definitely hoping to get this living situation handled so she could start concentrating on her love life again. Maybe some of those celebrity friends of Isabella’s might take an interest in Clio beyond just her photography talents.

In her mind, she pictured herself chatting with Donovan Hoskins, the world-famous actor known almost as much for his skill at playing a wide range of emotions, as he was for frequently losing his shirt in just about every film he was in. “Oh, Donovan,” she said to him in her mind. “You want me to come to that awards ceremony with you, really? I suppose to take pictures, right? …No? You want me to come as your _date_? Oh, well, that’s highly unprofessional… but when a simple Huaca Brava girl like me gets an offer that tempting… how can I refuse?”

Leaning back, Clio closed her eyes and let out a long, satisfied sigh, images of her and Donovan vacationing together on the beach after their surprise engagement announcement filling her mind. “Please let this work out,” she thought to herself. “If I could live here in this wonderful house… it would be a dream come true.”

But just then, her fantasy was interrupted by a low, raspy voice.

“Isabella, you slack off on doing the laundry again? There’s no fucking towels in the cabinet.”

Clio turned around in her chair in the direction of the voice. Standing in the archway was a woman with spiky black hair, well-defined muscles and skin covered in tattoos. Muscles and tattoos which Clio was able to get a completely unobstructed view of, as the woman had walked into the living room stark naked.

As Clio’s jaw dropped, the woman focused her eyes on the unfamiliar figure, seeming to take a moment to realize that she wasn’t Isabella. Rather than cover herself or even appear ashamed, the woman simply sneered. “Oh, right,” she said, cocking her bare-naked hip and making an annoyed sound. “The new roommate thing. Fucking perfect.”

Isabella rushed into the room, jaw hanging open as the two glasses of water in her hands sloshed around and dribbled onto the carpet. “Lara, did you forget about today?” she frantically asked, as Clio finally recovered from her shock and turned away from the naked woman to cover her eyes. “Could you _please_ go and get dressed?”

“I would, but I smell like fucking shit,” Lara responded. “Need to take a shower and there’s no goddamn towels.”

“Lara, I told you this morning. The last load was still running in the dryer, so I laid a towel on the radiator to dry for you. It was right in the bathroom, how did you miss it?”

“Urgh, right,” Lara responded. “Back in a bit.”

As she heard bare feet walking away, Clio finally let out her breath. Isabella made her way to stand in front of Clio, her beautiful face turning beet red. “I am so, _so_ sorry! I told Lara you were coming, like, a dozen times. I can’t believe she forgot!”

“It’s fine, really,” Clio said, reaching up to take the glass of water. “So… she does that sort of thing a lot?”

“Ye… yes?” Isabella hesitantly confirmed. “Lara is… well, you can obviously tell she’s not ashamed of her body. But listen, if you do decide you want to live here, I can totally have a talk with her and tell her to tone it down.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Clio quickly assured Isabella. After all the wonderful things she had seen about this place, she wasn’t going to let a roommate with a thing for nudism turn her off just yet. “Hey, I lived in a college dorm for four years. I’ve dealt with communal showers before, this is nothing,” Clio laughed it off, even as she found the image of Lara’s bared flesh already searing itself into a permanent dark stain on her brain.

This seemed to mollify Isabella, and she let out her breath as she sat down on the couch across from Clio. “Thanks for understanding,” Isabella said. Faintly, Clio heard the sound of water running from above her head. “But still, if you end up living here and Lara ever makes you feel uncomfortable, just come talk to me.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Clio said. “Look, I’m going to just say it straight out: I love this place. It would be a dream for me to be able to live here. And the last thing I want to do is make either you or Lara have to change your routines or rearrange your lives for me in any way. So if Lara enjoys walking around naked 24/7, I can definitely learn to live with it.” She paused, and then added jokily. “Although I might have to have a talk with her if my family ever comes to visit.”

“Of course, of course,” Isabella said, still looking a bit red in the face from the recent events. “But when I told you to come to me if Lara makes you uncomfortable… well, it’s not just the naked thing. She’s… um… I’m not sure of the best way to put this.” Isabella glanced away from Clio, her mouth twisting into a frustrated expression. “She’s a very forceful personality.”

Clio smiled nervously, knowing that the next few minutes would be crucial. While she was fairly certain that Isabella was already in her corner as far as living here, she was afraid that their awkward encounter had already soured her to the other half of her potential two roommates. “Don’t worry about me,” Clio assured Isabella. “You heard about how I grew up. Seven people in one house, including three brothers? Believe me, I’ve seen it all.”

Upstairs, the water stopped. Clio saw Isabella tense up slightly, as footsteps could be heard moving across the upper floor towards the top of the staircase. “Maybe,” Isabella finally said hesitantly. “Just… try to be understanding, okay?”

Lara returned, thankfully in a much more decent state. She had thrown on a ratty old t-shirt with a faded logo of some band Clio had never heard of, and a pair of tight black pants. Tossing herself roughly on the other side of the couch from Isabella, Lara raised up her legs and rested a pair of thick-soled boots on the well-polished coffee table in front of her. “So… you’re the new roommate?” she asked, sounding utterly disinterested.

“Well… I hope I am,” Clio said, forcing a smile on her face. “I’m Clio, it’s very nice to…”

“Fucking hell, that voice is going to take some getting used to,” Lara interrupted. “Like a chirpy little cartoon bird or something,” Reaching into her back pocket, she withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter.

Isabella arched an eyebrow. “Lara… we had this talk, remember? No smoking in the house?”

“Yeah, call a cop,” Lara said, sticking a lit cigarette in her mouth and taking a long drag. Turning her attention back to Clio, Lara stared at her intently, leaving Clio to shift nervously in her chair. Blowing out a puff of smoke, Lara narrowed her gaze. “So, what do you do?”

“Well,” Clio said, making an effort to lower the pitch of her voice slightly, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. “I was telling Isabella earlier that I’m a photographer. I just got a job for…”

This elicited a scoffing cough. “What, you take pictures for a living? That’s a fucking job?” Reaching into her other pocket, Lara pulled out a cellphone and pointed it at Clio. The flash went off, and Clio blinked at the sudden brightness. “There, look at me. Now I’m a photographer too,” Lara said with a cackle. “They should hire me instead of you.”

“Come on, Lara,” Isabella said, her eyes darting between her roommate and Clio with a forced expression of joviality. “I’m sure you know it’s more complicated than that. Clio has a degree from Ethridge, you know.”

A sour look crossed Lara’s face. “Fuck, we got a brainiac over here,” Lara said, staring daggers at Clio. “So, picture girl… you think having some big fancy college degree makes you better than all the other bitches who want to come live here? Think it’s going to impress us, make us kiss your ass and beg you to come sleep in our bed and shit in our toilet every night?”

Clio’s mouth opened, then shut again. She had absolutely no idea what sort of answer Lara was looking for. All of her good feelings about this place were starting to drain slowly away, at the thought of sharing a living space with this weirdly hostile woman.

“I… I don’t think I’m better or worse than anyone else,” Clio finally answered. “But I do think that I’d be the best possible roommate you could ask for. I’ll do my share as far as keeping the place clean, I won’t make too much noise. I’ll pay my rent on time every month. All I…”

Lara took another puff of her cigarette and let out a phlegmy laugh. “Listen to picture girl beg. ‘Aw, pweety pweety pwease, wet me wive wit you. I’ll be the bestest woommate evew.’ Pathetic.”

Clio could only stare at Lara, stunned. What had she done that had offended this woman so much? Or was she just always like this with everyone? If so… well, Clio finally understood why there was a vacancy around here. Was living in such a wonderful house worth having to suffer this abuse?

As Clio stared mutely, the awkward silence was interrupted by a buzz from Lara’s front pocket. “Shit, what’s up now?” she muttered, yanking out her phone. As her eyes hit the screen, Lara’s face suddenly fell slack. “Oh… oh, what the fuck? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Stabbing her cigarette into a nearby ashtray, Lara leapt to her feet. “Hate to cut this short, but urgent work shit just came up.” Looking down at Isabella, Lara frowned. “Look, give picture girl the room. Don’t give her the room. I don’t give a fuck. Just make sure she doesn’t bother me, or she and her camera are out of here.”

“Lara, just…” Isabella started to say, but her roommate was already rushing swiftly to the front door, tossing on a weathered black jacket on her way out. It must have been less than a minute between the text coming in, and Lara slamming the door behind her and leaving.

Clio sat, uncertain what to say at this point. Isabella must have seen her shock, as she stood up from the couch and moved to crouch beside Clio’s chair.

“I am so sorry,” Isabella said, placing her hand on top of Clio’s. “I knew she was uncomfortable with bringing in a new roommate, but I had no idea she would be this rude.”

“That… that was certainly an experience,” Clio finally mustered, her eyes still fixed on the empty spot on the couch which Lara had just vacated. “So… is she usually like that?”

Isabella shook her head. “I mean, she’s not exactly sunshine and rainbows, I’ll admit. But this is bad, even for her.” Isabella paused, staring at the floor and furrowing her brow. She spoke her next words quietly, as if afraid Lara would hear from wherever she had run off to. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this. You barely even know us. But Lara really liked our last roommate. And the circumstances of her leaving… well, I don’t want to get into details. But I guess Lara is still upset about how it went down, and this is her way of showing it. Trust me, it’s nothing personal. And once you move in and she’s gotten used to you… I just know she’ll lighten up.”

Clio took a moment to consider. She knew she should turn it down. That the good feelings she had gotten from this place would most likely fade quickly, to be replaced by the bad attitude of her new roommate. It wasn’t worth being treated like garbage just for a nice roof over your head.

But… Isabella said that Lara’s job made her work odd hours. Maybe she and Lara wouldn’t see each other that much. And that rent… she would never find a place as good as this for such a low cost. And despite the abrasive nature of her roommate, Isabella herself seemed like such a nice person. Maybe she would be able to talk some sense into Lara after a little while, or Lara would come to accept that their former roommate was gone for good.

“So… do you still think you’d want to live here?” Isabella said, and Clio almost thought she could see a silent plea in her eyes.

Sighing, Clio nodded. “Okay… yes, I’m still in.”

“Great!” Isabella said, smiling in relief. “You won’t regret it, I promise. So, when can you move in?”

“When can I…” Clio started to say, cocking her head at Isabella. “Wait. You mean, if you choose me, when can I move in?”

Isabella patted Clio on the hand. “Clio, I’ve already chosen you.”

“But the other applicants…”

“I’m not bringing in any other applicants, Clio,” Isabella told her. She looked a little sheepish as she continued. “This is probably going to sound silly to you. Superstitious nonsense. But after we talked on the phone… I don’t know, I just got these good vibes from you. Like I had this premonition that you were going to be the perfect roommate. So right after we talked, I cancelled the listing and told everyone else who had contacted us that the room was no longer available.”

“Oh,” Clio said. “So… you’re saying I have the room if I want it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Isabella said.

Clio took a breath, processing this new information. When she had told Isabella that she was still interested, she did it under the assumption that she could always change her mind later, before Isabella called her back. But now she was on the spot. It was time for a decision, and while Lara’s harsh words were still fresh in her mind, they were slowly being replaced in her mind by that view from the front door. And that swimming pool. And that beautiful, beautiful take-home pay.

“Well, at this point, I’m pretty sure my answer is yes,” Clio said. “But, I do have one condition.”

“Whatever you want,” Isabella responded eagerly.

Glancing up at the ceiling, Clio smiled. “I think I’d actually like to look at the room itself. You know, if I’m going to be living there and all.”

Isabella laughed, releasing all of the tension from before. “Right. Remember what I said about doing everything in the wrong order? Come on, let me show you the upstairs!”

* * *

It was dusk by the time Isabella finished the tour. As Clio expected, the second floor was just as well-furnished and beautiful as the rest of the house. The room that would be her bedroom wasn’t exactly massive, but it was certainly larger than her shared bedroom with her four siblings back home, or her dorm room at Ethridge. After showing off a study lined with countless numbers of books and an expensive looking PC, Isabella pointed out the doors to her own room, as well as Lara’s (which Clio mentally told herself to never, _ever_ open in a million years). Then, the piece de resistance: Isabella led her up the soaring spiral staircase to the former lighthouse itself, which had been converted into a small sitting room and observation area. The circular room had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the entire area, and Clio once again found her breath taken away by the view.

By the time they were finished, Clio had managed to wipe her awkward encounter with Lara completely from her mind. “What’s the worst that could happen?” she told herself. “I can’t put up with her, and I have to leave. I can find another place if I have to. Maybe even move back home for a bit if all else fails. After all: with the SLEGWIT system, it doesn’t really matter _where_ you live. Any job is just a click on your phone and a few footsteps away.”

As the two of them parted, Clio told Isabella that she could be ready to start moving in as soon as tomorrow, and Isabella gave her another hug as she excitedly welcomed her “home.” How in the hell did such a sweet, lovely person manage to put up with that harpy Lara for so long, anyway? Well, maybe Isabella was right, and Lara would warm up to her in the end.

Standing outside the house and waiting for the whirring SLEGWIT platform to arrive, Clio turned around, taking one more look back at the house. It was funny: she had stepped into it for the first time today, but already it felt so comfortable and familiar. It felt just like home. Clio smiled, more certain now than ever before that everything was going to be alright. She had a good job, an amazing place to live… nothing could ruin that for her now.

Turning away from the house, Clio stared out at the ocean again, watching as the last sliver of the sun sink below the horizon. And as she stared out across the vast, rolling waves… she saw it.

Something was moving in the water. Not at the horizon, but much closer. Maybe just a mile or two off the shore. She thought it was a dolphin or something at first, but as she stared harder, it looked like something else. Like… she wasn’t sure what it was. Something big, whatever it was.

Just as the mysterious shape started slipping back under the waves, Clio snatched for her phone. But by the time she switched back out of selfie mode and zoomed her camera view in to where she had seen the mysterious motion, all that she saw was the rolling of the tide.

“Maybe a whale or something,” she said to herself, as she heard the unmistakable sound of a SLEGWIT portal approaching. Putting it out of her mind, she watched dispassionately as the metal archway assembled itself, and by the time she stepped through to her destination, she had already forgotten the shape in the water.


	5. Guidance

“You sure you didn’t forget anything?”

“Yes, mom, I’m sure. And even if I did… I can just jump in the SLEGWIT and come back home to grab it.”

Alison Raleigh saw her mother Emilia watching with a fretful expression, as the upper-classman volunteers unloaded the stacks of boxes from a long line of SCaLEs, hauling the freshmens’ personal possessions to the room numbers helpfully marked on the boxes. Alison couldn’t help but think about how annoying it must have been for new students back in the old days, before OPT had made the SLEGWIT Cargo Loaders and Extractors available for general use. Back then, you would have had to pack up all your stuff into a car, and actually take the time to drive it to its destination. It would have been especially annoying in her circumstances: moving all the way from Wellspring halfway across the world to Ethridge. But now… just stick everything you needed in one of the self-driving metal cargo holds, tap the destination in, and the SCaLE would be there just a few minutes after you arrived yourself from the individual SLEGWIT portal.

“Listen, honey,” Emilia said, sounding like she was doing her best to hold in her tears. “If you ever change your mind, you know that you’re welcome back home to stay anytime. I’ll keep your bedroom just like you left it.”

“I know, mom,” Alison said. As annoying as she found Emilia’s smothering today, she forced herself to sympathize with her mother’s circumstances. She had spent so many years caring for Alison, devoted her life to being a single mom. And now she was going to be all alone in that tiny little house, with no one but Mr. Snuggles the kitty cat to keep her company. Alison made a mental note to look online for some fun social groups that her mother could join back in Wellspring. Just throw a few links in an email, like “Hey, Mom, these look really cool! Maybe you should go check some of them out.”

But she couldn’t linger on it too much. As much as she loved her mother, and respected her so much for raising Alison all on her own after her deadbeat husband bailed, it was time for Alison to strike out on her own path. She paused to take in the Etheridge University campus, where the next phase of her life would begin. She’d seen many of these buildings before in pictures, as she had researched her education options and filled out applications. But now she was here. It actually looked a bit smaller than she had imagined. Although that could have been because of the hustle and bustle of freshman move-in day, as all of Alison’s new classmates and their families were clogging up the campus. She looked around as all of them went through the process: Hugging and waving goodbye to their families. Cramming their way into the dorms to start unpacking their stuff and settling into their new homes. And greeting a bunch of new faces, people that they’d be spending the next four years seeing on a regular basis.

It was actually a little overwhelming for Alison. She had always been a bit shy. Not completely antisocial, but more comfortable in a quiet setting with a few close friends than at some loud party with dozens of others. And unfortunately for her, despite Ethridge being one of only a handful of universities on the Network, none of her friends from back at Wellspring were coming here. Tori had scored a minor success with one of those indie video games he was designing in his spare time, and had gotten hired on right out of high school to bash out some code for one of the major publishers. And Diana ended up going to the enemy, aka Ethridge’s rival school Rutherford Institute, as she preferred the sociology curriculum over there. There were probably a few other people from Wellspring who had come here, but nobody that Alison had socialized with back in high school.

And as she looked at her mom, trying to keep on a brave face for her daughter, it finally hit Alison. A wave of loneliness suddenly came over her, as she realized that, from this day forward, she was going to have to do things on her own. Over and over again, as senior year had wrapped up and her acceptance letter had come in the mail, everyone had been telling her that “Now you’re an adult.” But until right at this moment, it hadn’t really fully sunk in.

It was exciting, momentous… and terrifying.

“Alright, well… you give me a call any time, okay?” Emilia was saying, sensing that it was time to let her little girl go, but wanting to prolong things as long as possible. “No matter what time it is, if you need to talk, I’ll…”

Alison cut off her mother by grabbing her in a hug. “Thanks, mom,” she said, feeling her eyes start to well up a little. “Thanks for everything. I love you, and I’ll miss you every single day while I’m here.”

“Oh, honey,” Emilia said, holding her only daughter tightly. As they separated, Alison saw Emilia wiping at her cheeks. “Well, if you miss me too much… you know it only takes a few minutes to come visit. You’ve still got the house’s coordinates in your SLEGWIT app, don’t you?”

Alison laughed. “Of course, mom. How about next Saturday after I’ve settled in, I’ll come by and see you?”

“Great, I’ll cook something up special,” Emilia said. Thankfully, it seemed that the arranged meet-up was enough to finally convince Emilia that it was safe for her to leave. “Good luck, sweetie! I know you’re going to do amazing!”

Alison waved goodbye as her mother headed over to wait with the rest of the departing families for available SLEGWIT portals. There was a small part of her that wanted to run after her mother, jump in the portal with her and head back home to curl up in her old bed. But no. Living in that tiny old house back in Wellspring… that was done now. She laughed to herself as she realized that, as much as she had found that cramped little home oppressive when she was younger… her new living situation wasn’t exactly a hotel suite either.

“Oh, right,” Alison said to herself, pulling out her phone. Thinking about getting set up in her dorm room had reminded her: she hadn’t heard anything from Harmony lately. While she hadn’t met her freshman roommate yet, the two of them had a few conversations over text, arranging what sorts of things each of them would bring to the new room. Harmony seemed pretty friendly so far, and had helpfully offered to bring most of the essentials to furnish their shared dorm room, like toiletries, clothes hangers, and some spare bedsheets. Pulling open her phone, Alison confirmed the last thing that was sent in their text conversation: a selfie Alison had taken of herself, along with a note:

No response from Harmony. Odd. She quickly typed out another text:

“Alison?” called out a voice. “Alison Raleigh?”

Not Harmony, obviously; it was a man’s voice that was calling out to her. She turned to see a slim, dark-haired younger man approaching her. It took her a moment to place the face, but when she finally remembered, she broke out in a grin.

“Alex McDowell!” Alison exclaimed. “Ohmigod, I totally forgot that you were going here. How’s it going?”

The Wellspring native gave a shrug. “Not too bad. Feeling a bit sore from hauling around boxes all morning,” Alex said. “But hey, we get to eat for free this week for volunteering on freshman move-in day, so no way I’m passing that up.” He leaned in close, as if telling her a secret. “Considering how much they want us to pay for the meal plan around here, you never want to pass up free food if you can help it. If you haven’t signed up already, get the basic plan. I can give you some tips on places to score some cheap grub around town.”

“Sure, thanks,” Alison said, suddenly feeling very awkward. Back at Wellspring High School, Alex had been one year above her. She remembered him as being a lot like her: a bit quiet, but with a few good friends. But now… she couldn’t help but notice that the last year or so had been _very_ good to him. Alison felt her brain going blank, as she nervously shifted around in the presence of this quite cute sophomore.

“So, did your mom leave already?” Alex asked.

Alison nodded. “Took a while, but I finally managed to convince her it was time to head home. Think she was afraid she would never see me again if I’m out of her sight for more than a few days.”

“Yeah, pretty much what happened when I moved onto campus,” Alex said. “Dad finally had to take Mom by the hand and drag her away, her bawling the whole time about ‘what a big, handsome man’ I’d become.” Alex chuckled. “Of course, I think part of it was they both realized they were going to have to go home and deal with just having my sister around for a few more years.”

Alison laughed as she remembered. “Oh, yeah, Rayne. In case you were wondering, she’s still rocking the punk look and hanging out with Annie all the time.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Alex said. “She’ll text me once a week or so about some kick-ass show she and Annie went to, or some song she learned the chords to and hammered out on her guitar all night until the neighbors called to complain, or how Ms. Halifax was a total bitch and sent her to detention for no reason.” He let out a sigh. “My poor folks. I could see a little of it in their eyes when I went home for summer break. Bet they’re almost as excited for Rayne to turn 18 and move out as she is.”

“Hmm, think there’s any chance she’ll be joining us here?” Alison said, her tone making it obvious she wasn’t in the least bit serious. “Could you just imagine her… her…” she paused, her eyes catching something over Alex’s shoulder. Adjusting her glasses with one hand, she pointed with the other. “What’s that?”

“Huh?” Alex said, turning in the direction of her pointing finger. His eyes focused, and the two of them stared at the distant light up in the sky. Alison had thought it was a plane or something at first, but it didn’t appear to be moving. It just hung there, glimmering in the sky.

“Huh, weird,” Alex observed, after a few seconds of waiting for the light to do something. “Like some kind of… whoah! Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” Alison said. The spot of light in the sky had suddenly shot downward, disappearing behind the aged campus buildings and out of sight somewhere in the distance. Alison looked around, spotting two or three other students staring in the direction of the light, but most people just hurrying about their business of moving onto campus. It had all happened so fast, only taking about five seconds or so, that if she hadn’t happened to be looking in that exact direction, she never would have seen it.

Alex shrugged. “Eh, probably just some new OPT experiment or something. Bet by this time next year we’ll be seeing those lights all over the place,” he said dismissively. Turning back to her, he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “So, hey, I gotta go help my roommate with something,” Alex explained. “He signed up to do some tours for new freshmen who requested it, and I figured I’d tag along and give him a hand with the new fish. I’ll let you get going on moving in.” He paused, then added with a quick smile. “Unless you want to come do the tour too, of course. It’d be nice having a friendly face around from home to hang out with today.”

Alison froze. Is he flirting with her? Was this a flirt? She had always been so bad at picking up these sorts of signals. She glanced down at the ground, pushing her glasses up on her nose as an excuse to break eye contact. “Well, I…” Her moment of panic was interrupted by the buzz of her phone in her pocket. “Hold on, that might be my roommate,” she told Alex, pulling up her phone screen.

Squinting at the message, Alison shot off a quick reply – “ok see you soon” – and turned back to Alex. “Yep, that was my roommate Harmony. She said she’s running late. And she actually has most of the stuff for our dorm room, so I suppose I might as well kill some time taking the tour until she gets here.”

“Great, let’s get going. Think my roommate was meeting them over in front of the O’Hare Building,” Alex said, walking next to Alison as they made their way across campus. “So, you decided what you’ll be studying?”

“Animal Sciences,” Alison responded. “I’ve always wanted to be a vet, ever since I was a kid. Got sooooo many scratches on my hands from when I used to play ‘doctor’ with the family cat.”

“You… you played…” Alex said, taken aback, but then nodded in understanding. “Oh, actual ‘doctor,’ not… never mind.”

Alison blinked at him. “What? Isn’t that how you played ‘doctor’ when you were a kid? You know, comforting the patient, checking their symptoms and prescribing the appropriate medications?”

“Right, yeah,” Alex said. “Yeah, I remember doing just that sort of thing when I was…”

Alison finally broke. “I’m kidding, Alex,” she laughed, before considering and making a grossed-out face. “Ew, did you actually think I was…”

“No, no, of course not,” Alex quickly responded. “I just… oh, jeez.” Alex spotted something off in the distance, and he immediately rubbed the back of his neck. “Alison, whatever happens next… just be cool, okay?”

“What?” Alison said, following Alex’s gaze to see an older man rapidly heading in their direction. He was dressed in an ill-fitting, rumpled brown suit, and his greying, thinning hair was a wild, unkempt mass spreading out from his scalp.

“Alex, Alex, it’s remarkable,” said the man. “The readings I just saw, they were off the charts! A quantum atmospheric discharge of immense proportions, within just the last few minutes!”

Sighing, Alex turned to Alison. “Alison, this is Dr. Isaac Orenstein, director of astrobiology at Ethridge. Dr. Orenstein, this is Alison Raleigh, an old friend from my hometown.”

“Ah, yes, wonderful to meet you,” Orenstein said, extending a hand to give Alison a quick handshake, without ever looking in her direction. He stayed focused on Alex as he spoke. “Alex, you have to come back to the lab at once. I believe that we have just witnessed the arrival of extraterrestrial life on this planet. And close too, probably within only a few miles of this very campus.” He looked upward. “Most likely we would have seen some sort of indication in the lower stratosphere. Did either of you happen to witness any unusual events within the last few minutes?”

Alison started to open her mouth, but Alex quickly jumped in. “Nope, nothing comes to mind. Alison… you didn’t see anything, did you?” Alex asked her, his words emphasized strangely.

“Umm,” Alison said. “Well, there was that light in the sky.”

Alex’s face fell, while Orenstein’s eyes went wide. “A light?” Orenstein asked excitedly, finally looking at Alison for the first time since he’d rushed up to them. “My dear, you must tell me everything you saw! Every last detail, no matter how insignificant. What you witnessed may be one of the most momentous events to happen on this planet in over a decade!”

Alison thought back. “It… wasn’t much, really,” she detailed to the professor. “Just a bright light in the sky, like a star but in the daytime. It hung in the air for just a few seconds, and then just shot down behind the building over there.” She pointed.

“Actual landfall, my word!” Orenstein excitedly proclaimed. “I’ll need to get over there and take some readings immediately. Alex, come with me at once!”

“Doctor, I would, but I volunteered for freshman orientation this week,” Alex said. “I have to help with all the new students right now.”

“Oh, to hell with the new students!” Orenstein groused. “I’m talking about history! Actual proof of alien life arriving on this planet!” Seeing Alex’s reluctance, Orenstein made a weary grunt. “Fine, fine. I suppose I can collect samples by myself. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your social life, Alex. But could you at least stop by my lab this evening, and help me document my findings?”

Alex nodded. “Sure thing, doctor. I’ll try to stop by for a few minutes later.”

Nodding, Orenstein quickly rushed off in the direction Alison had pointed to indicate where the bright light had come down to earth. After a few steps, he paused and shook his head. “No, no, need to grab my instruments first. Can’t take measurements without my instruments,” she heard the professor muttering to himself, as he turned to head in the direction he had originally approached them from.

Alex waited until the doctor was out of earshot before turning to Alison. “Sorry about that. At some point I became the doc’s ‘prize pupil’ or something, so he always comes to me when something like this happens. He’s… very enthusiastic, as you saw.”

“He seems nice enough,” Alison said. “What did you say he did here? Astrobiology?”

“Yeah, the study of extraterrestrial life,” Alex explained. “It’s really fascinating. A lot of it’s theoretical since, well, the aliens aren’t exactly lining up to be studied. But there’s a lot of cool stuff about the abiogenesis and evolution of organic life, and how planetary systems are formed and…” looking over at Alison and seeing her nodding and smiling blandly, Alex cut himself off with a self-effacing laugh. “Yeah, I know. The doc makes it sound a lot more interesting, trust me. I took his 101 course as an elective my freshman year, and it’s been one of my favorite subjects ever since. I’d honestly consider switching majors if…” Alex exhaled deeply. “Well, let’s just say that there ain’t a lot of companies on the Network hiring for alien experts these days. My career opportunities would be somewhat limited.”

Alison watched the departing professor in the distance. “So, you really believe him? That alien life is here on this planet?”

“He makes a compelling case, I have to admit,” Alex explained, starting to walk again with Alison following him. “Lot of unexplained events that would make a lot of sense if you chalked it up to alien activity. At the same time… I dunno. See, the doc doesn’t just think aliens have visited this planet. He thinks they’ve been here for years. Hiding amongst us and directing events since before most of us were even born. But for me… well, if there really are aliens out there who have figured out how to generate enough power to transport themselves over multiple light years… why would they even bother with us? That kind of technology, it would even make what OPT is doing look like children playing with toys.”

“But you do still think there are aliens out there?” Alison asked him.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Alex said, his tone energized as he discussed the topic. “Our tiny little planet is surrounded by infinite space, so it’d be ridiculous to think there isn’t some other sentient life out there. But I doubt that you or I would ever be lucky enough to meet them anytime in our lifetimes. Still… it’s interesting to think about it.”

In the distance, Alison saw someone waving at them. “Ah, there he is!” Alex said, waving back. “You’re not the only one here who endured four years of hell at Wellspring High. Remember this guy?”

Squinting in the distance, Alison spotted a beefy, blond-haired guy grinning and waving at them. His face triggered a vague memory. “Oh… right, right, Gavin’s brother, right?”

“Yeah, that’s Chase,” Alex said.

“Oh, okay,” Alison responded. High school felt like a long time ago, even if she had graduated only a few months earlier. But she still remembered Gavin and his girlfriend Sarah, and how much they tormented the “uncool” kids back at Wellspring High School. And Chase was definitely the “jock” type as well back before he graduated.

As if guessing her thoughts, Alex nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, don’t worry. That high school stuff is all over now. Chase actually turned out to be a pretty cool guy once we moved past all that stupid clique stuff. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

The two of them approached Chase McClendon, who gave Alex a back-slapping hug as soon as he was within arm’s length. “Dude, what the fuck is up?” he cheerfully exclaimed. “How was your summer, man? You try that exercise routine I sent you?”

“Uh, a little bit,” Alex hesitantly answered. “Kinda a bit intense for my current… state of fitness.”

Chase sighed in overblown disappointment. “Come on, bro, you gotta push yourself harder. Before the end of this semester, I swear, we’re going to get you buff if it kills me.”

“Yeah, well, _you’re_ not the one who’s gonna feel like dying by the end of it,” Alex said with a laugh, before making a gesture in Alison’s direction. “Hey, was over by the freshman dorms and saw a familiar face from back home. You remember her?”

Chase turned his genial grin towards Alison. “Uh… yeah, yeah,” he said, staring at the plain-looking glasses-wearing girl with long straight brown hair, not a hint of recognition on his face. “Long time no see… uh…”

“Alison,” she said, extending her hand. “Alison Raleigh.”

“I know, I know,” Chase said, giving her a firm handshake. “It was right on the tip of my tongue,” he unconvincingly lied. Alison didn’t take it personally; Chase had been on the football team, which might as well have been on another planet from the people Alison had hung out with.

“So, you joining in on the all-time greatest campus tour in history, hosted by the most awesome wide receiver Ethridge has ever had?” Chase asked. Punching at the air, making quiet “pow, pow” noises with his mouth, Chase bounced on his heels. “Yeah, get ready to see everything, at the best damn school on the entire SLEG-work,” Chase declared, sneering as he added. “We ain’t like those dweebs over at Rutherford. Losers, every one of ‘em.”

“Right, yeah,” Alison said. “One of my best friends is actually going to Rutherford.”

Chase shrugged. “Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, but your friend’s going to school with a bunch of total losers,” With a grin, he slapped Alison lightly on the shoulder. “Nah, I’m just messing. There’s some decent folks over there, I’m sure. Shame they picked the lamest possible place to enroll, but hey. Not everybody can be awesome like us, right?” Throwing his head back, Chase let out a loud whoop. “ETHRIDGE!” he exclaimed, as several students turn to gawk in his direction.

Leaning over to Alex, Alison whispered. “Is he always like this?”

“Think he might have had a little too much of the free coffee this morning,” Alex responded. “The volume is normally a notch or two lower.”

“Oh, right, duh,” Chase said. “Should introduce you two to the other lucky recipients of the Chase McClendon Ethridge tour.” He indicated over his shoulder to two young women, awkwardly waiting. “This is Ashleigh and Tiana.”

“Hi, Tiana Scott,” said one of the women, a tawny-skinned beauty wearing expensive looking clothes, with her long black hair styled up in a large, curly mane. She looked down at Alison’s body as she shook her hand, and gave her a wide smile. “Wow, I love what you’re wearing, Alison! That simple, small-town vibe, kind of a ‘thrift store chic’ you’ve got going there. Fashionable and flattering without breaking the bank. Love it, love it.”

“Uh, thanks,” Alison responded to the… compliment? Glancing down at her wrinkled t-shirt, old denim overshirt, and faded blue jeans, Alison suddenly felt very self-conscious. She turned her attention to the other girl, Ashleigh, who was looking around the campus with a sour expression. She was a blond-haired woman with high cheekbones and pale blue eyes, shorter than everyone else in their group. She was dressed in what looked like an old army jacket, under which was a t-shirt bearing a picture of what looked like a large-scale riot somewhere, with the slogan “GET OFF YOUR ASS AND CHANGE THE WORLD.”

“Yeah, they talk a big game about ‘diversity’ here, but look at this,” Ashleigh loudly proclaimed to no one in particular. “Look at all these white faces. Where are all the Huaca Brava natives who were supposed to get special scholarships to come here? The inner-city kids from Fairchance who were promised needs-based assistance? You could take a picture just about anywhere on this campus, and title it ‘White Privilege in Action.’ So much for the ‘diversity of the Network.’”

“Uh, hi,” Alison said, approaching the ranting Ashleigh. “I’m Alison, nice to meet you.”

Ashleigh snapped her attention to Alison, with a ferocity that made Alison take a step back in surprise. “Good for you, Alison.”

“Good… for me?” Alison responded, confused.

“Don’t let the patriarchy keep you down,” Ashleigh said, clapping a firm hand on Alison’s shoulder. “Those bastards would just love to see you slaving over a hot stove in the kitchen, spending your life being subservient to some man and pumping out his babies. But you chose a different path. Higher education, becoming your own woman.”

“Uh, right,” Alison said, while thinking back to all the times she had imagined her ideal future: working part-time in a vet office, while still having plenty of time to be at home with her bread-winner husband and two to three kids. Not exactly the “fierce independence” Ashleigh was espousing, but the thought of it made her happy.

Reaching into a pocket of her weathered jacket, Ashleigh pulled out a flier and handed it to Alison. “Here, I’m starting up a feminist group next week in the commons. Safe space to talk about anything and everything The Man is doing to keep that glass ceiling firmly in place over your head. You and me, sister… we’ll beat them all.” She held up a fist, facing in Alison’s direction.

“Right… we’re all in this together,” Alison responded, hesitantly bumping her fist with Ashleigh’s.

Chase clapped his hands, trying his best to get things back on track. “Alright, everybody knows each other now? Awesome, let’s do this! So, we should probably start with…”

“You… you are Alison, yes?” said a hesitant voice from behind them. All of them turned, and were immediately struck dumb as they saw the woman standing there.

She was, without question, one of the most beautiful women Alison had ever seen in her life. Wavy blond hair that spilled down her shoulders and seemed to almost sparkle in the midday sun. Big blue eyes that brought back images to Alison of the school trip to Avon Lake, one of her happiest memories. And a body that made Alison self-consciously cross her arms across her own modest chest. She wore a pink, shoulder-less blouse, and a pair of tight jeans that were generating some appreciative stares from men passing behind the new arrival. And a glance or two from the women as well.

“Hello!” the woman finally broke the silence. “I am to be your new roommate, Alison. My name is Harmony Pinarello. It is very nice to finally meet you!”


	6. WICKED INTERLUDE: Wild Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wicked interludes are optional, erotic scenes, not necessary to follow the plot of SLEGWIT. If you have any triggers or other content you find objectionable, scroll to the bottom of this page for content warnings; if the listed content is not to your liking, feel free to skip the above scene. Otherwise, scroll back up and enjoy!

Something was trying to dig itself forcefully and painfully out of her brain, through the front of her skull, and burst out of her forehead. At least, that’s how it felt to her, as she blearily opened her eyes and groaned. As Marielle slowly returned to consciousness, she wished the terrible creature luck. Anything to end this misery.

“Ah, fuck,” Marielle muttered softly, rolling from one side to her other under the unfamiliar sheets. Bad hangover. Strange bed. Just another Tuesday night.

She scanned what she could see from where she lay, her bleary memory of the past twelve hours holding no recollection of this particular set of scenery. Tastefully decorated. Light blue wallpaper, plain wood furniture. Man’s room? Woman’s room? Couple’s room? Too soon to tell. Plain white curtains and venetian blinds through which sunlight was already, painfully streaming. Daytime. What time of day? Who the hell knows? No clock on the nightstand she was currently facing.

She slowly, laboriously sat up, the bedsheet spilling off her naked breasts as she stared down at herself. Well… at least she didn’t puke in the bed this time. Things could always be worse.

Looking for more clues regarding her current situation, her eyes went to the other nightstand, spying a framed photograph. A young dark-haired man in his twenties, smiling and holding onto the waist of a woman of a similar age. “Fuck me,” Marielle sighed, realizing she was going to have to get moving soon. Last thing she needed was an angry wife yelling at her, making this god-awful headache even worse. Or an angry husband, depending on which way she had decided to swing last night.

Tossing the sheets away, Marielle slid off the mattress, standing up to survey the room around her. She squinted as she moved to a nearby window, trying to determine where the SLEGWIT portal had taken her the previous night. She was on the second floor of whatever building she was in, from what she could tell. Outside she could spot green grass, an elm tree in the front lawn… probably Valley Green or maybe a nicer neighborhood in Fairchance. Thank fuck it wasn’t like that one time she woke up in Malevanka; it had taken days for the marks on her neck to go away. The people down there got _freaky,_ apparently.

Her attention turned to a door nearby, and she could see the unmistakable tile of a bathroom floor. Stumbling across the room, she nearly tripped and fell over her skirt, crumpled on the floor. “What the fuck?” she lightly exclaimed, catching herself on a chest of drawers just before she hit the pristine white carpet. A quick scan of the floor of the room showed only one set of clothing: her own. Whoever normally slept in this bed must have already woken up and cleaned up after themselves.

In the bathroom, Marielle fumbled for the light switch. Catching a look at herself in the mirror, she recoiled in disgust. “God, I’m a fucking mess,” she muttered, staring at the bags under her bloodshot, angular eyes (one of three things handed down from her father, along with trust issues and an encyclopedic knowledge of vulgar words in two different languages). She grabbed a nearby brush to work on her short black hair, frazzled and unkempt after a wild night of… whatever the hell she did last night. As she tried her best to look presentable, she glanced around the bathroom for any further clues. No sign of used, discarded condoms or recently-cleaned vibrators. The two in the photo were pretty attractive, though. Marielle wouldn’t have minded waking up next to either of them. “Or maybe even both,” Marielle thought to herself with a shrug. Wouldn’t have been the first time she helped an adventurous young man and woman find their kinky side. Although… oh, yeah, that hadn’t turned out so great in the end. _Such_ a messy break-up, and Marielle had gotten front-row seats.

Reaching up to the corner of the mirror, Marielle opened up the medicine cabinet behind it. After a short scan, she spied the familiar bottle: OPT-brand painkillers, the best in the market. A more demure and polite individual might have been tempted to ask before raiding the medicine cabinet of essentially a stranger. “Fuck that,” Marielle slurred, quickly popping four pills in her hand, tossing them in her mouth, and washing them down with sink water cupped in her other hand. That handled, she put the pills away and shut the cabinet, getting another good look at her haggard appearance.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she quietly chastised herself. “You’re 38 years old. Too old to be doing this shit to yourself. Get yourself together, Marielle.”

An old, familiar speech. Only the numbers had changed. Far more rapidly then she would have liked.

Turning her attention back to the bedroom, she went about getting herself dressed. She had no idea what time it was, but she imagined she was probably late. And her outfit from last night was definitely not going to cut it on the job, so she’d have to stop by her apartment before heading in. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing another one of those “I’m so very disappointed in you” looks from Mark when she got to work, although he was always good for covering for her when she came stumbling to her desk four hours late. But she knew his patience was probably wearing thin, and if she kept pushing her luck, he might not be able to smooth things over much longer.

Speaking of which… ugh, as she spotted her handbag sitting on the floor in one corner of the room, she could hear a faint sound of vibration. Opening it up and retrieving her phone, she winced as she saw the plain white numbers indicating the time.

“Yeah, I’m here, Mark,” she said as she answered the phone. “What’s that? Okay, okay, I’ll be there when I can,” Marielle let out an annoyed sound. “Look, I know, I know. I’m on my way. Send me the SLEGWIT coordinates and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Yeah, yeah, see ya,” she hung up without another word.

Groggily, she carefully put on her outfit from the previous night: tight pink polyester skirt, a patterned, partially-transparent black blouse showing off her bra and cleavage underneath, and high-heeled black pumps. Damn, as shitty as she felt right now, she had looked pretty smoking last night. Guy or girl, they were lucky as hell to be the one to take her home. Or maybe both. Jeez, she didn’t remember a damn thing about what happened. What the hell had she drunk?

She poked her head out of the bedroom door quietly, just in case the other half of the couple on the bedstand was around and looking to whip a homewrecker’s hide. But no sign of anyone in the hallway she found herself in. Carpeted floors. Bland, pre-framed artwork from some bargain furniture store. A set of stairs leading downward. She was in a house, not an apartment. No discarded toys or any other sign of any kids living here at least; never forget the one time she stumbled through a door in just her panties, only to be confronted by two little brats asking if she was their “new mommy.”

Carefully, a little unsteady on her high heels, Marielle made her way down the stairs. At least her headache was already starting to subside. Those OPT eggheads, they really made the best of everything.

As she hit the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner, she spotted someone in the kitchen. The man from the picture, working a skillet over the burner as he made a grilled cheese sandwich. Marielle briefly considered attempting to sneak away and out the front door, to avoid any potential awkwardness. But before she could take another step, the man looked up and spotted her. She was relieved to see him smile. “Hey, look who’s finally awake! You hungry? Or I’ve got some coffee made if you like.”

“Mmm, not sure I could keep any food down,” Marielle muttered. “But coffee would be great.”

So, it had been the guy. Marielle could live with that. Since he hadn’t kicked her out of the bed in the morning, screaming at her to get dressed before his wife/girlfriend/whoever got home, obviously the woman was either not going to be around anytime soon, or she was cool with whatever happened last night. Feeling relieved, Marielle took her time walking over, sitting down on one of the stools lined up along the pale green island counter. Her lover from the previous night poured her a mug of coffee from the steaming pitcher, and she accepted it with a wan smile.

“Have enough sleep?” the man asked, a hint of a tease in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry,” Marielle muttered, tossing two cubes of sugar into the mug and giving it a stir. “You could have woken me up, you know.”

The man shrugged. “Hey, sleep in as much as you want. I’m not your father.”

“Yeah, if you were, you’d have gone out for a pack of smokes, and I wouldn’t see you for 25 years,” Marielle muttered. “But hey, about last night. Just wanted to say that…”

“Hey, there, sleepyhead,” said a voice from behind Marielle. She turned to see the woman from the picture approaching. Smiling, thankfully, so hopefully no pots were about to be hurled at her head. “Wild night last night, huh?”

“Yeah,” Marielle responded. Furiously, she dug through her own brain to recount any memories of the previous night. Did she really swing with both of these two last night? Is it just an open relationship and the girl was good with her man banging other people?

“Oh, hey, sis,” the man said to the new arrival as she sat on the stool next to Marielle. “Mom called and asked if you could make a potato salad for when we go over this weekend.”

Ah. Now Marielle understood. Not a couple, but brother and sister. Ew, this had to be awkward. Poor girl, having to be face-to-face with the hottie her brother boned last night. Marielle resolved to finish up her coffee quickly and make her escape as soon as possible.

There was a buzz nearby, and the man picked up his phone from the counter. “Ugh, that’s work calling,” he said. “I told them I was going to be out sick, but I guess they’re checking up on me. Be right back, gotta go cough for a while and make it sound good.”

The man walked off, leaving Marielle to sit uncomfortably with his sister. An awkward silence hung in the air, before Marielle finally cleared her throat. “So,” she said, “Um… sorry if there was… uh… a lot of noise last night.”

“Hmm?” the sister made a quizzical noise. Then she smirked at Marielle. “Oh, no need to apologize,” she gave Marielle a suggestive look. “If it’s not noisy, you must not be having much fun.” She leaned in close and whispered. “And it sure sounded to me like you had plenty of fun last night.”

Okay, wait. Was… this girl getting off on listening to her brother and Marielle bone all night? Creepy. Or… oh, shit. It wasn’t the brother. It was the sister. She must have fucked the sister. A hazy memory came to her head of this girl out on the dance floor at Club Crimson. Shit, that was it. Marielle had been with the sister last night.

“Yeah, I had a great time,” Marielle said, making her best attempt at a seductive smile. “Sorry if I overstayed my welcome in your bed.”

“My bed?” the sister asked. “No, you were in my brother’s bed.”

Marielle winced. “Oh, jeez. That’s a little awkward. I guess we must have been pretty hammered last night, huh. I should probably apologize before I go.”

The sister stared at her. “Apologize? What for?”

“Well, I know I… um…” Marielle blinked. What was going on? Maybe she _did_ have sex with the brother last night. “Nothing, forget it,” Marielle finally said. Brother, sister… whoever it was, Marielle just needed to finish her coffee and leave before things got any weirder.

The brother returned. “Alright, that’s handled. Hey, sis, the washing machine’s making that weird noise again. You want to take a look? You’ve always been better at fixing that thing than I am.”

“Oh, little bro,” the sister said, jumping off the stool. “I swear, you wouldn’t be able to put two puzzle pieces together without an instruction manual.”

“Yeah, yeah, screw you, sis,” the brother snarked back. As the sister departed into a back hallway, the brother turned back to the grilled cheese on the stove. “Sure you don’t want a little something to eat? Hate to have you leave on an empty stomach.”

“It’s fine,” Marielle assured him, finishing the last sip of her coffee. “Thanks for the coffee and for… uh… letting me use your bed for a while.”

A smile crept onto the brother’s face. “Oh, it definitely got used alright,” he suggestively said. “Just let me know if you ever decide to… use it again, okay?”

Oh, what the fuck. As the brother gave her a sexy look, an image formed in Marielle’s mind, of him giving her the same look while buying her a drink at the bar the previous night. Was that even a real memory, or just the drinks from last night still doing a number on her fucked-up brain? Or was the memory of the sister out on the dance floor not real? Oh, this was so goddamn confusing.

“Washer’s fixed,” the sister said, returning to the kitchen. “Good thing, too… after last night, I’m _definitely_ going to need to wash your sheets, little bro. Right?” she batted her eyes and winked at Marielle.

Pushing the stool away from the counter and getting to her feet, Marielle held up her hands. “Okay, okay, I give up! I was wasted as hell last night and I don’t remember a damn thing, so I’m just going to ask, straight up… which one of you did I fuck last night?”

The brother stared at her in surprise. “You… you don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t, okay?” Marielle admitted. She gestured towards the brother. “I was pretty sure it was you at first,” she waved a hand in the sister’s direction, “but then you started making all those flirty bedroom eyes and ‘if it’s not noisy, you’re not having fun’ lines.” She pointed back in the brother, “But I woke up in your bed, but maybe I fucked your sister in it. I have no goddamn idea, but whichever one of you I _didn’t_ fuck, you’re seriously creeping me out. So, I give up. It had to be one of you, so which one was it?”

The two siblings stared at her for a long, awkward moment. Finally, the sister started giggling. “She doesn’t remember, little bro,” she said, wrapping her arm around her brother’s waist in a pose similar to the one in the photo upstairs.

“Wow, she must have been _really_ drunk last night,” the brother said with a smile. “Should we tell her?”

“Yes, for the love of God, tell me!” Marielle exclaimed. “What the hell did… did…”

And as she saw the two siblings move in closer to each other, the memory came back to her in a sudden, bleary rush.

_She was on her back, legs spread wide, while he pumped in and out of her._

_And behind him, stroking on his bare chest, she whispered in his ear._

_“That’s it, little bro. Fuck her. Fuck her so good. God, I love the sight of that big, fat cock inside her pussy. Fuck her just like you fucked me last night. I want to watch my brother’s big dick make her cum.”_

_Marielle gasped and moaned. “… fucked up. This is so fucked up… but so fucking good! Oh, fuck, that cock is so…”_

_Her next words were cut off by a pussy being planted on top of her face. She could feel the sister grinding her crotch around and against Marielle’s outstretched tongue, all while making out with her brother, who continued pounding a steady rhythm into Marielle’s snatch._

_“So fucked up,” Marielle continued thinking, even as she hungrily lapped at the sister’s pussy. “So fucking fucked up…”_

The two siblings saw the recognition dawn on Marielle’s face, and looked at each other to share a wicked smile.

“Right, right, I remember now,” Marielle said. She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the front door. “So… yeah, I gotta get going.”

“You sure?” the sister said, wrapping her arms around her brother and raising a hand to stroke his chest. “We both took the day off, and we’d love to help refresh your memory from last night.”

Marielle shook her head. “Nah… nah, I think I’m good. Thanks for… well, the coffee and the… the peek into one of the few fetishes I hadn’t indulged in yet.”

“Ah, well,” the brother said, turning to his sister. “We’ll just have to have fun on our own, won’t we, big sis?”

Marielle started heading for the exit, thankful to be away from this messed-up family situation.

But she paused at the front door, her hand on the knob. Looking back into the kitchen, she saw that things had progressed rapidly in the few steps to the exit. The sister was already down on her knees, freeing her brother’s cock from his pants and lovingly stroking it into full, erect status.

And… well, it was a very nice cock. Marielle felt herself salivating just a little as she watched it harden in the sister’s gentle grasp. And that sister… she was a fine piece of ass, herself. If Marielle had been her brother, even _she_ might have been tempted to keep it in the family…

Hearing footsteps approaching, the two siblings looked up to see Marielle moving towards them, lifting up her skirt to slide her panties down her thighs. “Okay, let’s make this quick. I’m already running late as it is,” she said, as she turned around and bent over the kitchen counter.

* * *

Five minutes later, Marielle emerged from the house sweaty, satisfied, and thoroughly ashamed of herself. “You know,” she thought, “this is the sort of thing that anyone else might consider their ‘rock bottom.’” Shaking her head, she stepped off the front stoop and pulled out her phone, calling up the SLEGWIT app to create a portal to her apartment building.

“Uh, Marielle?” said a voice from behind her. Marielle turned to see the sister poking her head out of the open door. Stretching out a bare arm, she waved a small black item. “Think this fell out of your bag!”

“Oh, right,” Marielle said. Walking back to the house, she plucked the object out of the sister’s hand. “Thanks again.”

The sister grinned at her. “Hey, we had a lot of fun. If you ever want to stop by and…” she let out a gasp, turning to look behind her into the house. “Little bro, what are you doing? Somebody might see… oh… oh yes! Give me that big cock, little bro!”

Marielle heard the distinctive whir of her arriving portal. “Uh, yeah, I’ll call you,” she falsely promised, pretty sure she never got either of their numbers. Turning around and leaving the two screwing siblings behind, she inspected the object in her hand, making sure it was intact.

Flipping over the faux leather casing, she stared back at a much younger, much more optimistic version of herself. “DET. MARIELLE MAXWELL,” the badge read. “NETWORK POLICE AUTHORITY.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: Consensual incest between siblings


	7. Window

“Sorry, sir, this area is off-limits by order of Chapel City Police. Please move along.”

Calmly, Mark McLoughlin reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket, retrieving his badge and displaying it to the uniformed CCPD officer.

“Ah, glad you NPA boys finally showed up,” the cop said, moving aside to allow Mark into the crime scene. “Body’s starting to stink a little.”

Mark walked into the narrow alleyway, giving the area a quick scan as he followed the patrolman to the crime scene. “What have we got here, officer?”

“Looks like a jumper,” the officer explained as he walked, gesturing upward to the tall office building on their right. “Guy threw himself out a window, up there on the eighth story, then splat. Hit the pavement like a goddamn rag doll. Lucky he wasn’t up much higher, or there wouldn’t be much body for you to inspect.”

“Suicide?” Mark said, frowning. “We got called in for a suicide?”

The cop shrugged dismissively. “Got me, pal. The brass told us to expect the NPA on this one, and that’s all I know. I’ll let you take a look, maybe you can figure it out.”

Following the officer to the body, Mark wondered what wrinkle was about to show itself. The Network Police Authority were a special department that had jurisdiction to operate within all cities connected by the Network. Not long after OPT had implemented SLEGWIT portals in a handful of cities across multiple land masses and countries, it became a concern that an individual could easily commit a crime, and then step through a SLEGWIT portal into another part of the world where the law they had just broken couldn’t be enforced. And so the NPA was formed, a worldwide organization of the best and brightest, hand-picked from each Network city’s own police forces. A borderless security force, beholden to no local or federal governments, that allowed justice to be carried out no matter where on the Network a crime was committed. Going forward, any city that was approved to be connected to the Network would be required to sign laws allowing the NPA to operate within their borders. For the most part, however, Mark and his fellow officers and detectives only intervened in major cases. The type that had the potential to cross through multiple cities and countries on the Network, and would be bureaucratic nightmares otherwise. Most minor crimes and incidents – like an apparent suicide – would usually be left to local authorities to handle.

So, for the NPA to be called in on what looked like a cut-and-dried jumper… there was some shoe waiting to drop. And Mark got a feeling it was going to make this case a lot more complicated once it finally hit the ground.

Up ahead, two local police detectives were waiting by the body, badges dangling from their necks. Seeing Mark approaching, one of them lightly slapped his partner on the shoulder to get his attention, and the two of them walked over to meet Mark, a few feet away from the crime scene.

“They only send one of you NPA boys?” one of the detectives asked.

“My partner is just running a bit late,” Mark said, the routine lie coming easily to him now. “Wrapping up some paperwork on another case. So, we have an ID on the deceased?”

One of the detectives arched his brow at the other. “You wanna tell him?”

“You caught a real fun one, detective,” the other man gave him a shit-eating grin. “Big lump of flesh down on the pavement there was formerly known as Howard Keenan.”

“Howard Keenan,” Mark repeated the name. It took a moment for it to register, but once it did, his expression immediately darkened. “That Howard Keenan?”

“If you’re thinking, ‘Howard Keenan, best buddy of Edgar Ariano,’ then you nailed it in one, buddy,” Detective #1 said.

Detective #2 laughed ruefully. “Good luck, pal. Hope you ain’t the next one taking a dive out of a window.”

As the two detectives moved past him, Mark stared at them. “You’re leaving?” he asked.

“Hey, you think we want anything to do with this case now that you boys in the NPA are here? Fuck, no,” Detective #1 said, not even slowing down as he and his partner made their exit. He was calling out loudly by the time he finished speaking. “This case is all yours now, detective. Enjoy!”

Turning back to the body, Mark muttered under his breath. “Amateurs.” He looked back at the uniformed cop. “Officer, can you please find the building manager, and tell him that I would like to speak to him right away?”

“Will do, detective,” the cop said, quickly hustling away.

“At least someone is doing their job around here,” Mark thought to himself.

Taking a second to reach into the pocket of his jacket and snap on a pair of rubber gloves, Mark happened to glance at a nearby dumpster. Somebody had taken the time to slap on more than twenty of those stickers that had been cropping up recently around Chapel City: the word “NETWORK,” white block text on a black background, obscured behind a set of thick steel bars with the One Planet Technologies logo. Along with another one, with just four words printed on it: “WE WERE NEVER ASKED.”

“Great place to get the message out,” he said under his breath, as he turned away from the politically-inclined trash receptacle and approached the body. Lines of tape had already been put in place where Keenan had made his hard landing, and a glasses-wearing man in a slick jacket reading “CORONER” was crouched over the body.

Hearing his approach, the medical examiner looked up and gave him a forced smile. “Afternoon, detective,” he said. “Looks like you drew the short end of the stick today, eh?”

Mark ignored his comment. “What have you got for me?”

“If you’re expecting me to give you anything other than the obvious, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” the coroner explained. “Cause of death: broken neck and bodily trauma due to eight story swan dive. No signs of a struggle pre-fall on the body itself. And you can go up and inspect the man’s office if you want, but I can probably save you a few steps. I overheard our local boys discussing their own search, and it doesn’t look like there’s any sign that the guy was tossed out or otherwise defenestrated against his will. If it was anyone else, I’d tell you this was a clear-cut case of ‘my life is meaningless, time to end it all’ and call it a day.”

“If it was anyone else,” Mark repeated.

The coroner shrugged. “Not my line of business to think about, detective. It’s up to you to figure it out. But we both know who Keenan is. Who his boss is, and who his boss’s enemies are. They’d be exactly the types to go to great pains to make a hit look just like a suicide.”

Mark stared down at the crumpled body of the high-ranking mobster. This was bad. Keenan had been with Edgar Ariano since almost the beginning, and was one of his most trusted associates. Ariano was going to be out for blood.

The Ariano syndicate was an upstart force in the Network underworld. They started out small around eight or nine years ago, but lately they’ve been rapidly expanding the scope of their operations. Dope, illegal weapons, counterfeiting and underground gambling dens… you named a scam, Ariano was either neck-deep in it, or trying to muscle his way in.

But there was one problem: the Network already had a “top dog” when it came to crooked activities. And he wasn’t the type to take someone muscling in on his territory lying down. So while Ariano and his people might have stayed under the radar up until now, the body crumpled on the concrete in front of Mark could have been an indication that someone was finally taking Ariano seriously.

“If it _was_ Gaultier’s people behind this…” Mark observed.

“Yeah,” the coroner said in a serious tone, rising slowly to his feet and bending backwards to stretch out his back. “Get the feeling I’m going to be putting in a lot of overtime soon. Gonna be a lot more bodies dropping, maybe even literally, if Gaultier’s on the warpath.”

Crouching down, Mark checked the pockets of the dead man’s jacket with his gloved hands. Keenan had gone out well-dressed at least, wearing an expensive pin-striped suit that had only been slightly rumpled by the impact. “Well, it’s not here,” Mark observed. “Did the detectives mention finding a note up in the office?”

“A note?” the coroner asked.

“Suicide note,” Mark responded, looking up from the body to the coroner. “If this was a suicide, there would probably be a note.”

The coroner shook his head. “Don’t think they mentioned anything about a note, no.”

Feeling something in one of the pockets, Mark reached in, retrieving a small, snub-nose revolver. He checked the cylinder. “Loaded,” Mark muttered, snapping the gun shut and pulling out an evidence bag to store it. “Tell me this: you’re feeling miserable, want to end it all… and you’ve got a loaded gun in your pocket. Why go to the trouble of tossing yourself out the window?” Mark asked, staring up at the gaping hole in the building eight stories up. “That glass looks thick. Sturdy. He might not have even made it through on the first try. Why not just shoot yourself instead?”

“Mystery for the ages, detective,” the coroner said. “Maybe he didn’t want to get blood all over his office for when the new guy takes over.”

The uniformed cop returned. “Detective, the building manager is waiting for you. I told him you’d meet him out by the street.”

Mark nodded at the officer. He gave one last pat of the corpse’s pockets before getting to his feet. “I’m done with him,” he informed the coroner. “Have him sent to the NPA morgue.”

As Mark turned away, he heard the coroner behind him. “You think they’ll be calling in the fed-necks?”

Mark wearily sighed. He hated that term so much. “No idea. Not my call to make,” he responded, before walking back up the alley.

Waiting near the opening back out into the street was a skittish-looking man, who quickly jammed his hand in Mark’s direction. “Thank you so much for coming, detective,” the man said. “Gerald Linkman, I’m the property manager.”

“Detective McLoughlin,” Mark said, quickly shaking the man’s hand.

Gerald stared down the alleyway. “Are… are you all there is?”

“My partner should be here shortly,” Mark answered. “In the meantime, what can you tell me regarding Mr. Keenan? Had you seen or spoken with him anytime in the last 24 hours?”

“No, not really,” Gerald responded, nervously wringing his hands, his eyes darting around. “We have a very large building here, many clients going back and forth. I can’t say I’ve spoken to Mr. Keenan at all recently. Such a shame. Such a terrible shame.”

Pulling out a notebook, Mark began writing. “And as far as anything unusual happening in the building? Any issues with security or anyone being in the building who shouldn’t be?”

“Nothing that comes to mind,” Gerald responded, nervously shifting back and forth. Under normal circumstances, Mark would have immediately fingered the building manager as someone involved in the death. But more likely, he was paranoid about what potential fate could befall him, should Ariano decide that Gerald was even partially responsible for the death of one of his top associates. “I’ve spoken with the security team on duty at the time, and none of them can recall anything out of the ordinary around Mr. Keenan’s office.”

Mark nodded, continuing to take notes. “Right. This building is wired with security cameras?”

“Yes, yes, every floor,” Gerald responded.

“I’m going to need all of your surveillance tapes from the last two weeks, main lobby and the hallway outside of Keenan’s office, sent over to the NPA offices. And records of any incoming or outgoing phone calls from his office as well.”

Gerald gritted his teeth. “Oh, right. Of course. Problem is, detective… we’ve been having a few technical issues with our camera records. Nothing we can’t deal with, but it might take us a few days to work the bugs out. But as soon as the problem is fixed, we’ll provide whatever records you require.”

“Not a problem. As soon as you’re able,” Mark said, having expected as much as soon as he made the request. Of course they weren’t going to give him that sort of thing right away. Not until carefully editing out anything that might implicate Keenan or his boss. He could try to push it, find a judge to give him a search warrant, but Mark knew that by the time it had worked its way through the system, it would all come to the same result in the end. Mark just hoped that whatever was left over after Ariano personally supervised the removal of incriminating evidence was enough to get to the bottom of Keenan’s death.

“Is there anything else, detective?” Gerald asked. He was probably in a hurry to get his excuse ready for Ariano when he came by, and to put his affairs in order in case his explanation was found lacking.

Mark shook his head. “You can go. Although I will be needing to examine the office of Mr. Keenan.”

“Of course, detective, whatever you need,” Gerald said, a little too quickly and readily. “I’ll be sure to have security let you in.”

“Appreciate it,” Mark responded. As Gerald walked away, Mark couldn’t help but wonder how he was able to gain access so easily. Especially after running into those “technical issues” with the surveillance tapes. There could be scores of documents up there tying Keenan up in any number of illicit activities.

Then it hit him, and he cursed under his breath as he thought about the two smug detectives in the alleyway, and how quick they had been to leave once he had arrived. Ariano had money… more than enough money to buy off a couple of local detectives and have them clear out Keenan’s office of any incriminating evidence. By now, there was probably little point to even waste the time riding the elevator up there.

Still, maybe there was something up there related to the “suicide,” or whatever it was. Even if the really juicy stuff was shredded or burnt already. Mark stepped out of the alleyway back onto the street. All around him, Chapel City kept on going. People arriving and leaving in SLEGWIT portals, blinking in and out of existence in an instant. Street stalls selling hot dogs and buskers strumming on guitars. Above him, massive skyscrapers jutted up into the dark grey atmosphere, windows glowing with office workers slaving away at the numbers. Posters everywhere advertising Kyron Collins and his big “Feel the Magic” Network-wide tour, the young singer posing with a microphone in one hand, and his trademark fuchsia wand in the other. Digital display screens showing Miana Xing extolling the virtues of the latest OPT technology, with that familiar placid smile on her face.

It all seemed so… peaceful. If these people only knew that back in that alleyway, crumpled in a heap, was something that could lead to open mob warfare in a heartbeat.

It hurt to imagine. Mark had originally been a cop in Chapel City, and still felt a little affection for the biggest city on the Network. He had started out small like everybody else on the force, walking the beat before getting promoted up the ranks. First to CCPD detective, and then getting the big call up from Network Police. Back when he started with NPA, he had been young and reckless. Always playing the bad cop role, raging in the suspect’s face and threatening him with everything up to and including castration if he didn’t talk.

Hell, back then he might have even welcomed a gang war. The excitement, the steady crime scenes to investigate, even the potential for a shootout or two would have gotten him pumped as hell back then. But he was different now. Married with a kid. And the thought of having to sit his son Seth down and explain to him why he had to go to work in a flak jacket now, because a lot of bad men might try to hurt him… it made him sick.

Speaking of feeling sick… Mark paused to pull out his phone. No sign of any update from his partner. Marielle Maxwell… ever since the two of them had been partnered, it had been like this. He would like to say something charitable, like “Yeah, she was a good detective back at the start, but something must have happened.” But if Detective Maxwell had had a “good period,” it was long before the two of them ever knew each other.

The pattern was always the same: late night bender, apologetic call or text promising to do better, and then Mark doing his best to work scenes and question witnesses on his own until she finally managed to drag her ass in to work. But that was the thing about a routine. Easy enough to just let things play out the way they always did, instead of buck the system and take the risk it could make things worse.

Marielle fucked around and screwed Mark over. And Mark just kept covering for her. Patterns and routines. All part of the wonderful way of life that was detective work for the NPA.

He heard footsteps approaching from his side, and thought maybe Marielle had finally shown up. He turned, and was suddenly beset by a noxious wave of halitosis.

“Stay away from them!” cried out a bug-eyed, grey-bearded man. Mark reared back in surprise as the frantic man moved in close, a strange odor wafting off the filthy robe-like garment he was wearing. “Listen to me! Everyone, listen to me!” the raving man raised his voice, as several passers-by glanced over with either amusement or disgust. “Great evil lurks in the shadows! We are infested with demons! Invaders from the black depths of Hell itself! They’re among us right now!”

“Ah jeez,” the uniformed officer, having been distracted taking down contact information from the building manager, finally noticed Mark’s predicament. Shoving the frantic man back, he looked at Mark apologetically. “Sorry about that, buddy. We’ve been seeing this loony around a lot these days.”

“Touch me not, servant of the deceivers!” the man exclaimed. “I bring these people the truth! What you all refuse to see! Grave peril awaits those who refuse to stray from the path they’ve been forced onto. Every one of your so-called ‘protectors’ are in league with the dark ones! Lies are being fed to you every day, on every screen and in every printed word! Seek the truth, before we are all damned!”

“Right, right, it all sounds very serious. Move along, buddy, or I’ll haul you in for creating a public disturbance,” the officer threatened. His frantic yelling reduced to a low mutter, the dirty old man shuffled off, his long garments dragging on the pavement.

“Takes all kinds in Chapel City,” Mark observed to the officer, brushing off his jacket. “Appreciate the assist, officer.”

Nodding, the patrolman looked over to the alleyway, where the coroner was beckoning him to assist with the body. The officer went back into the shadowed depths between the buildings, leaving Mark alone once again.

As he stood on the sidewalk, taking a breath to compose himself before heading in to examine a (probably already picked-clean) crime scene, his eye caught something big heading in his direction, down the city street.

A limousine. It wasn’t an entirely unusual sight, especially in the upper-class areas of downtown Chapel City. Most of the residents of Network cities relied on SLEGWIT for transportation, and appreciated not having to spend a good portion of their income on buying and maintaining a car to get around. As a result, actual vehicles had become somewhat of a status symbol for wealthier members of society. While automobile manufacturers had originally gone apoplectic at the thought of SLEGWIT replacing their livelihoods, they were now rolling in cash, as pretty much any car now was a “luxury model,” allowing them to jack up the prices to ridiculous levels.

Mark wondered what important individual was riding around in such an ostentatious mode of transportation. But it wasn’t important right now. He started heading for the glass revolving doors of the office building.

And just as he started moving, the limo came to a halt. One of the back doors was flung open, and out stepped an unfriendly-looking woman. Sinewy arms covered in tattoos, a spiky black hairdo, and heavy dark eye-shadow. “Some sort of rock star, from how she’s dressed,” Mark mused to himself, before noticing the woman was heading right in his direction.

“Hey, pig,” she growled. “Got somebody that wants to talk to you.”

Mark stared down the woman, calmly answering. “I’m afraid I don’t have time at the moment. Excuse me.”

She grabbed Mark by the lapel of his jacket, halting him in his tracks. “Well, you’re gonna make time, you understand me? This guy… he doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Miss Durham?” said a calm, mellow voice from inside of the limousine. “Please calm yourself. There is no need to threaten the detective.”

Durham rolled her eyes, while releasing her grip on Mark’s jacket. “Fine, alright,” she said, only mildly calmer than before. “Look, buddy… this is just a friendly conversation, that’s all. Nobody’s gonna get hurt, okay? So just have a seat in the limo for a few minutes and let my boss say his peace.” She did her best to force a smile on her face, the end result looking painfully ghoulish.

Mark was doubtful, but a part of him, that “cowboy cop” persona from years ago, got him thinking it was worth taking the risk. Durham gestured towards the open limo door, and Mark cautiously entered the vehicle.

He sat down in a comfortable seat at the back of the limo, Durham getting in behind him and shutting the door. Mark squinted to see, the heavily tinted windows allowing almost no sunlight into the richly appointed interior of the vehicle. As his eyes adjusted, Mark saw a man sitting across from him at the front of the vehicle, facing away from the driver. A man whose face Mark knew quite well, although had thankfully never seen in person before today.

And suddenly, Mark came to the conclusion that he might have made a very bad mistake.

“Detective McLoughlin,” said the slim, handsome man in the all-black suit and matching crew cut. His voice was soft and calm, spoken at a languid pace. “You know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question, but Mark answered it all the same. “You’re Ambrose Gaultier. The most powerful crime lord on the entire Network.”

Durham grabbed him by the lapel again. “Hey, shut up with that bullshit!” she barked, getting in close to Mark’s face. “Mr. Gaultier is a legitimate businessman, you hear?”

“Miss Durham, I would ask that you stop manhandling the detective,” Gaultier said, giving Mark a disarming smile. “My apologies.”

Durham released Mark’s jacket, and he calmly straightened it out. “Mr. Gaultier, I don’t know what this is about,” Mark started to say, “But…”

The mobster raised a hand, waving it to interrupt. “You and your partner Marielle Maxwell have been assigned to investigate the murder of Mr. Howard Keenan. Criminal associate of one Edgar Ariano. Correct?”

Mark squared his jaw. “I’m not at liberty to discuss any active NPA investigations, Mr. Gaultier. Especially with a civilian, and _very_ especially with a known criminal who may potentially have involvement in the matter.”

“Hey!” Durham snapped at him. “You better cooperate or…”

“LARA!” Gaultier suddenly barked, raising his voice for the first time since Mark had sat down. Looking frustrated, the dark-haired woman sat back in her seat, like a child that had been scolded by her father for acting out. “Detective, I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible first impression,” Gaultier said, regaining his calm immediately. “Let me come to the point: While you have no reason to trust my word, I swear on my honor that neither I, nor any of my associates, had anything to do with Mr. Keenan’s murder. The last thing I want is to start a war with Mr. Ariano.”

Mark found that almost impossible to believe. Gaultier hadn’t gotten to be the most powerful gangster on the Network by asking nicely. Mark had heard all the stories, and seen many of the case files: how Gaultier had lured a great number of his rivals onto a massive yacht, under the pretenses of an alliance, and blew the thing up in the middle of the ocean. When some Nicci crime family goons had tried running a protection racket in one of Gaultier’s neighborhoods ten years ago, Gaultier had tied them up, and one-by-one cut into each of them until they bled to death. Tale after tale of vicious reprisal against his enemies, often pointlessly cruel and sadistic.

But for all the evil he was capable of, it certainly didn’t show in Gaultier’s demeanor. The man sitting across from him in the limo was casually friendly, giving Mark a genial smile as he spoke that almost seemed genuine. It struck him how young the man looked: while Gaultier’s record went back for more than twenty years, he didn’t appear to be a day over 30. “Plastic surgery can do wonders these days,” Mark thought to himself.

“I do not know who committed this crime, but I fear that whoever it was may be attempting to implicate me,” Gaultier continued. “Perhaps some upstart, hoping that the chaos of open conflict will allow them an opportunity to lay claim to what remains, once the current power structure is bloodily upended. It could be one of Mr. Ariano’s associates is hoping that eliminating Keenan will allow them to move up in the ranks. Who knows… perhaps Mr. Ariano himself had decided that Keenan was of no further use to him. I don’t know for certain; what I do know is that I had _nothing_ to do with this.” Gaultier gave Mark an intense stare, dark eyes appraising him. “I fear you don’t believe me, detective.”

“I deal in evidence, Mr. Gaultier,” Mark said. “Not somebody’s word, no matter how sincerely they swear it.”

“I would expect nothing less, detective,” Gaultier said. “Which is why I came to speak to you today. I would like to offer you my assistance in your investigation.” When Mark quickly opened his mouth to refuse, Gaultier held up a hand to cut him off. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he said. “Sometime within the next 24 hours, you will be provided a method of getting in touch with me, should my services be required. Keep the information or discard it, I leave that up to you. But know that I and my organization can reach into places your NPA rules and regulations would prevent you from ever venturing.”

Gaultier leaned forward, giving Mark a serious stare. “Trust me, detective: there’s no one who wants to prevent this from escalating into further violence any more than I do. If you will allow me, I will pledge my support in your investigation. Together, we can catch the individual who really committed this murder, and bring him or her to justice.”

Mark knew he shouldn’t engage. To even consider working with an unrepentant criminal like Gaultier went against everything he stood for. But his inquisitive nature got the better of him, and he couldn’t resist using this opportunity to ask one question.

“You seem rather convinced that Mr. Keenan was murdered,” Mark asked. “Since you have so much information already, you must be aware that Keenan fell from his office window. No sign of struggle, all evidence points to this being a suicide. And yet you’re already talking about the true culprit, like you know for certain that there was foul play.”

Gaultier leaned back, steepling his fingers and regarding Mark with amusement. “Please, detective. I know my rivals, more than they know themselves. Keenan showed no signs of depression or suicidal thoughts. If he had, no doubt Mr. Ariano would have shuffled him aside for another, more stable individual.”

Mark stared at him. “You already know something, don’t you? If you have information, you are obligated to reveal it to the NPA.”

This made Gaultier chuckle. “Or what? You’ll bring me in for questioning?” He shook his head. “I may have some information, but nothing concrete yet. One of my associates is currently… drowning in potential leads. And if you keep in touch, Detective, I promise that I will provide whatever information he is able to bring to the surface.”

“No deal,” Mark said. “You have information, you come to us. Otherwise, this conversation is over.” He glared over at Durham. “May I leave now, please?”

Gaultier gave a nod to Durham, who sighed and opened the door without a word, shifting in the limo interior to allow Mark a free path back out onto the street. As Mark moved to make his exit, Gaultier called out, causing Mark to pause halfway out of the limo to look back.

“There are terrible events on the horizon, Detective McLoughlin,” Gaultier said, smile gone from his face as he stared intently at Mark. “And by the time this dirty business is over… you may come to value my assistance. And my protection.”

Saying nothing in response, Mark stepped out on the curb. The door shut, and the limo slowly pulled away.

Coming up from behind him, two coffee cups in her hands, Marielle Maxwell watched the vehicle depart. “Whoa, cool car,” she said. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?”


	8. Investigations

_“Honey? It’s 10:00 in the evening. I really wish you’d come home. The case will be there tomorrow.”_

_Stop. Please stop. Don’t make me go through this again._

_“I know, you always tell me how important it all is. But what about us? Aren’t we important to you? We barely see you these days.”_

_I can’t do this. Not again. Please, make it stop._

_“Always with the promises. ‘Once we close this one, I’ll be home more often, I promise.’ I used to be able to believe you, but after five or six times… there will always be another case. Another excuse to be in the office all night long.”_

_Why didn’t I listen? I should have been there._

_“Jason… Jason, I think you better come back home. Right now.”_

_My fault. All my fault. I know, so please… just make it stop. Just one night without having to hear it again. Please._

_“Jason… listen to me. There’s someone on the water.”_

_A quiet, almost inaudible sound of breaking glass, a sound of a thump against the kitchen floor… and then silence. A long, empty silence._

_Interrupted only by_

the sound of a hand slapping down hard against lacquered wood, right next to his face.

“Gah!” Jason Lovelace cried out. His head launched upward from where it had rested on his office desk. He took a moment to register his surroundings and see Dylan Medeiros standing above him, devious grin on his face.

“Rise and shine, Jace!” the muscular man chided him, a grin on his broad-featured face. “Jeez, you forget to sleep again?”

Jason blinked his eyes, letting a light yawn. “Not forgot, just… neglected,” he said, rubbing at the red mark on his face from where he had dozed off. “Besides, sleep is all a big scam. God’s cruel joke on us humans: ‘I’ll only give them so many years on this planet, and a third of that time is spent unconscious. That’ll make them worship me.’ I choose to fight the system in my own way.”

Dylan arched a brow. “Yeah, looks like a fight you lost. Anyway, got an update on those cases you had me working on.”

“Lay it on me,” Jason muttered, rubbing his eyes as he sat up straight in his rolling chair. Only now was he finally back in reality: sitting behind a desk in his tiny home office. The “headquarters,” such as it was, of Lovelace Investigations, his private detective firm. Not exactly a luxury suite in a Chapel City skyscraper. With one of those doors with his name printed on the frosted window, through which mysterious gunmen could be seen in silhouette. Nope, just a spare room in his suburban house that he’d shoved a desk and some file cabinets into. But these days, renting out your stereotypical P.I. office space was well outside of his budget.

“Lovelace Investigations is having a banner month, for sure,” Dylan said, tossing down a plain manilla folder onto the desk. “Not one, not two, but count ‘em, _three_ employment background checks researched and completed. Looks like PeopleCom is staffing up these days, which is good for our business.”

Jason slipped on a pair of reading glasses, opening up the folder and glancing at its contents. “Any dirty laundry turn up that PeopleCom should know about?”

Sitting down opposite Jason at the desk, Dylan leaned back. “Mmm, two of the three checked out squeaky clean, but our friend Sal Barrish… did some digging and turns out our boy has some pesky sexual harassment complaints floating around from jobs outside of the Network.” Dylan clucked his tongue, which reaching his hands around to rest on the back of his neck, underneath his long, dreadlocked hair. “These guys, they think that just because it didn’t happen on the Network, that nobody’s going to find out about it. But Lovelace Investigations, we’re on top of this shit. Mr. Barrish is out of here, and we get a nice bonus from the good folks at PeopleCom for keeping the backsides of their female employees mercifully un-groped.”

“I love a happy ending,” Jason deadpanned. “And how about our friend Mr. Brinkman? We any closer to tracking him down our friendly neighborhood parole violator?”

Dylan cackled. “Closer? We got the bastard, that’s how close we are. Friend of mine on the NBP fed me a tip, said a guy fitting the description of our fugitive got turned away at the Falcon Mesa checkpoint for trying to use false papers. Those border patrol guys, they ain’t no chumps.”

Jason nodded. If he was a more paranoid person, he might have found it a bit concerning how difficult it was for people living on the Network to leave it. Multiple forms of ID and proof of citizenship, plus documentation of a valid reason for you to be allowed to leave. And various means of keeping people from vacating the Network unofficially, ranging from round-the-clock surveillance by guards and drones at the borders, to walls and other natural features of the landscape being used as barriers.

Granted, it did make their skip-tracing jobs a lot easier, since most of their targets didn’t have the resources necessary to be in any location besides the fifteen cities in the Network. Still, Jason imagined that the whole situation would be concerning to a lot of people, if not for the fact that the Network – with its numerous eclectic places to visit, and no doubt more to come in the future – provided more than enough excitement for nearly everyone who made their home in one of its cities.

It was crazy, wasn’t it? The way that being put on the SLEGWIT Network essentially turned the city into a prison for its citizens, albeit a prison with vast employment opportunities, high standards of living, and hundreds of unique dining options. And that was the catch, and why there had been so little resistance as OPT spread its Network wider: having OPT set up SLEGWIT in a city within your national borders was a massive boom to the economy. Everyone there still paid taxes, and a vast majority of the top corporations had relocated their headquarters and manufacturing facilities into the city limits of one of OPT’s chosen locations, providing even more incoming revenue for local and federal governments. So the benefits of allowing OPT to essentially hijack part of your infrastructure and absorb it and its people into its own weird “government” of sorts was impossible to pass up, and every nation who was offered happily signed the deal and passed the laws necessary to make it happen.

And of course, once your home was chosen to receive the buzzy little portals, there was still time to change your mind. Everyone living in the chosen city was given the opportunity to “OPT-out,” as it were. One Planet Technologies had a substantial pay-out available to any individual or family who wished to leave before the portals went in, enough money to easily and comfortably relocate elsewhere.

But if you followed the Midpoint Media homepage, or just about any other website dedicated to current events, it was obvious enough that only a fool would choose to forgo the luxury of living on the Network. Business, entertainment and pop culture, even every major sports team had relocated to a Network city by this point. Everything centered around the Network now, across pretty much the entire planet, and transporting yourself halfway across the world was as easy as a few clicks on your phone. Choosing to leave the Network was like willingly exiling yourself to some remote wasteland.

So, you stayed, until the portals went in and the borders came up. And once that happened… well, you were pretty much here for good.

And the strangest part of all: while it was damn difficult for your average citizen to _leave_ the Network, by all accounts it was almost trivially easy to _enter_ the Network. To visit, or to stay for good. And after seeing what it was like to live in your average Network city, most people chose the latter. At this rate, between OPT’s rapid expansion and the difficulty in ever finding a way to extract yourself, Jason wouldn’t be surprised to see all of the planet’s population concentrated in Network cities in thirty years’ time. Maybe even less, depending on how quickly Xing and her people added new nodes to their Network.

Shaking off these thoughts – “Somebody else can worry about that big picture stuff,” he mentally assured himself - Jason turned his attention back to Dylan. “So, Mr. Brinkman’s brave attempt at escaping the Network was foiled. What next?”

Dylan pointed at the file in front of Jason. “Did some digging from there,” he explained, “and a working girl in the area was able to point out the hotel room where Brinkman was hiding out. Was pissed off at the guy because he stiffed her on the price of a blowjob. And it was a _really_ good blowjob, at least according to her. One of the best she’d ever given.”

“Some artists are never truly appreciated in their time,” Jason observed. “So, you found the guy?”

“Found and delivered his whereabouts to our good friends at the NPA. They should be transporting him home to Fairchance and the local police there as we speak. So, bad news for Brinkman: he’s heading back to jail. But good news is… he doesn’t have to be in Falcon Mesa anymore. Shit, that place is _hot_!”

“Yes, for a man of your fair complexion, I imagine it was quite a trying experience,” Jason said.

Dylan grinned at him. “Hey, black don’t crack, but it sure as hell bakes. The sun out there in Falcon Mesa… Why can’t these people run somewhere cloudy, like Malevanka?”

Jason frowned at the mention of the name. “Trust me… you _don’t_ want to go there. And besides,” he gestured down at Dylan’s outfit. As was typical for his partner in this enterprise, he wore a gaudy floral shirt, with all but two buttons at the bottom hanging open to show off his well-defined chest, and a pair of tan shorts that put his muscular calves on full display. “With the temperature there, you’d have to compromise your unwavering sense of style.”

“True, true, the Malevankan ladies will just have to be deprived of my gorgeous presence a little while longer,” Dylan said, giving his dark brown arms a quick flex.

“Alright, what else did we have going?” Jason said, flipping through the folder. “Any progress on that case from the folks at Reliant Debt Collection?”

Dylan hissed between his teeth. “Ugh, bad news about that one, Jace,” he said, scratching his pristinely-trimmed beard. “They called us back to say that, due to our lack of progress in the investigation, they’d be going with Goldman on this one.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jason sighed. “Goldman stole another one from us.”

“I’m sorry, Jace, it’s my fault,” Dylan said, shaking his head and leaning forward on his knees. “I should have…”

Jason held up a hand to interrupt him. “No, no, Dylan. It’s not your fault or my fault. Goldman just has more resources than we do. You seen their website lately?” He asked, Dylan shaking his head. “They’re touting that they have a full set-up of One Planet surveillance equipment and geolocation tools. I mean, how in the hell are we going to compete with that? I could sell this house and everything I own, and barely be able to buy one OPT hidden mic.”

“Yeah, well, we’re just gonna have to work harder and smarter, not richer,” Dylan observed. “Money may buy you a bunch of expensive tools, but it can’t buy you pure talent. And between you and me, we’ve got enough investigative skill to blow Goldman and his crew right out of the water.”

_Water…_

_“There’s someone on the water.”_

Jason shook off the memory. “Well, nice work on those other cases. This has actually been a pretty good month for us.”

Dylan wearily sighed. “Yeah, in that we’re slightly less in the red than we usually are.”

Jason leaned across his desk. “Hey, Dylan, I know things are tight. But I’m going to look at the books and see if I can’t move some money around to start getting you some of that back-pay I owe you.”

“Man, don’t even sweat it,” Dylan responded. “I mean, you’re letting me stay here in your spare bedroom, giving me a roof over my head rent-free. How could I complain about that? And besides, I know you’re good for it. Any day now, Lovelace Investigations is going to be at the top of the heap, the most well-known and prestigious P.I. agency on the entire Network. And when that happens,” Dylan gave Jason a quirky smile. “Oh, you best believe you’ll be paying me every last cent of what you owe me.”

“Yeah, well, until then… I feel like I should at least put a little aside for you. You’ve basically been doing half the work around here these days,” Jason said.

“Mmm, I’d say more than half, but who’s counting?” Dylan responded. “Look, we’ve been over this, Jace. Three years ago, you gave a mean, rude little shit of a kid a chance, when nobody else would.”

Jason smirked. “Yeah, well, it helped your odds that you were literally the only applicant for the position as my assistant.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t like I didn’t give you plenty of reason to leave the spot vacant,” Dylan responded. His face clouded over as he thought back. “I mean, damn, I still don’t know why the hell you put up with all my crap those first few months. But you did, Jace. I was heading nowhere before you brought me in. I had no apparent skills, no real goals in life. You only hired me to make you coffee and run paperwork down to the courthouse, and I figured it was an easy way to slack off and get my father off my back about getting a job. But you saw something in me, and you never gave up on bringing it out. And now look at me: I’ve got my P.I. license, and I get to do a bunch of boring skip-traces and background checks, just like you!” he grinned. “So who cares if you missed a few checks in the past? I know you’ll make it up to me once I help drag this place kicking and screaming into the upper ranks of private investigation.”

“You’re too damn good to be working here,” Jason said.

Standing up, Dylan shrugged. “Well, they ain’t responding to my application at Goldman, so guess I’m stuck here for now.” He jabbed a thumb out of the office door. “Hey, you hungry? Think there’s leftover chicken curry from last night in the fridge, I can toss it in the microwave for us.”

“Nah, all yours if you want it,” Jason said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head, letting out another loud yawn. “You’re right, I should probably hit the…”

His next words were cut off, by the unmistakable chime of the front doorbell.

Dylan stared at Jason quizzically. “Were we expecting any clients?”

Jason shook his head. He felt a faint sense of dread, before he reminded himself that those days were over. Nobody was going to come knocking at his door with a gun or a wand or any other weapon. He didn’t matter enough anymore for that type of attention. “I’ll get it. Probably just someone with the wrong address.”

Stepping around Dylan – a bit of a difficult maneuver with Dylan’s sizable frame and the tiny dimensions of the office – Jason walked out into the front hallway. He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror hanging from a nearby wall and groaned. “You look great, pal,” he thought to himself, eyeing his thinning hairline, five-o-clock shadow, and the ratty old sweater he had been wearing around the house for a couple of days straight now. “Perfect look for a late night visitor.”

The doorbell rang again. “Coming,” Jason called out, walking over to the front door and slowly cracking it open.

“Hello?” said the woman standing outside, brushing the sleeve of her black sweater across her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I saw your sign outside… this is Lovelace Investigations?”

Jason could hear a soft laugh behind him, and tried his best to ignore it. “Why did you waste the money on buying a sign?” Jason had asked Dylan several weeks ago, as his partner had hammered the wooden frame into place outside his house. “It’s not like people are just going to randomly pass and think to themselves, ‘Say, I was just thinking I was in the market for a private detective! What an amazing coincidence!’”

“Uh, yeah… yes, this is Lovelace Investigations,” Jason said. “You’re looking for a private investigator?”

“I… suppose I am,” she asked. “Do you mind if I come inside?”

Jason quickly stepped aside. “No, not at all. My office is just this way.”

As she approached, Jason appraised the woman more closely. She was middle-aged, but with only a few faint lines around the eyes betraying her age. Straight black hair hanging midway down the neck. A turtleneck sweater and plain brown slacks. Jason found himself unconsciously appraising her fashion choices, trying to mentally determine her budget even before he had decided to take on whatever case had brought her to his doorstep. Mostly, though, his eyes were drawn away from her clothing to her eyes. There was a sadness there, a feeling of some deep trauma that, while it might have been years ago by now, still kept this woman awake at night.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Dylan politely said to the woman, escorting her down the hall into Jason’s office. “Don’t you worry. Like the slogan on the sign says: ‘No case too big. No trail too small.’” He glanced back at Jason as he opened the office door for the woman, a twinkle in his eye. “Really is a nice sign, isn’t it? Guy gave us a really good deal on it, too.”

Shaking his head, Jason gritted his teeth and made a choking motion with his hand in Dylan’s direction, who only responded by grinning even wider. Shutting the front door, Jason followed Dylan into the office. With him and the mysterious woman taking up the two chairs opposite his desk in the tiny office, it was an embarrassing long time before he managed to push his way past the two of them and back behind his desk.

“Okay, guess we should start simple,” Jason said. He placed hand lightly on his chest. “Jason Lovelace,” he gestured the hand to his right. “And my partner Dylan Medeiros.”

“Celia Waters,” the woman responded. “I appreciate you speaking with me on such short notice.” She laughed briefly. “Well, _no_ notice, I suppose.” She glanced down at the folder on Jason’s desk, filled with papers from the cases Dylan had handled. “I’m sorry to be wasting your time with this. I’m sure you’re probably busy with much more important matters…”

Dylan started to speak, but Jason held up a hand to interrupt. “As it just so happens, Ms. Waters, your timing tonight couldn’t have been better,” he said, picking up the folder and throwing it into one of his desk drawers. “We recently… handed off one of our cases to another agency, so we should be able to fit you into our schedule.”

“I appreciate it,” Celia said. “And you can call me Celia.”

Jason nodded, leaning forward on his desk. “Of course, Would it be alright if we record this conversation?” he asked. When Celia nodded her head, Jason reached into another drawer and pulled out a small, handheld tape recorder. “Now,” he said, while pressing down the record button at the same time, “what can me and my partner help you with?”

“Well, I suppose it would be easiest to start with the question you’re probably both asking yourself: why did this crazy, weeping woman just randomly walk up to your front door and ask to hire you?” Celia said, laughing in a way that nearly turned into a sob. “I guess I should show you the letter I received today.”

Reaching into a pocket, Celia pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. Picking up his reading glasses off the desk, Jason read the letter aloud for Dylan’s benefit, and for the tape record. “’Dear Mrs. Waters. On behalf of the Network Police Authority, we express our sincerest sympathies for your situation. However, due to the lack of forward progress in our investigation, and in absence of any further evidence to the contrary, we now consider the case regarding the disappearance of your husband, Merlin Waters, as a closed matter, and will be ceasing all further investigation. Unless you should come into possession of new evidence indicating the potential whereabouts of Mr. Waters, we are able to provide no further assistance at this time, and we would ask that you no longer contact our offices or detectives. Thank you, and our condolences.’”

“Wow, such warmth and humanity,” Dylan remarked. “Like a nice, friendly hug from a concrete slab.”

Celia took the letter back from Jason. “Well, I guess I should consider myself lucky to even receive that response. It only took three daily calls to the NPA for almost a month before they were finally willing to acknowledge me.” She hastily shoved the letter back in her pocket, obviously not showing much concern for it. “When I got the mail today and saw the NPA insignia on the envelope, I stupidly let myself get my hopes up. But after I opened and read it… I just started walking. I didn’t know what else to do. I just couldn’t stand to be in that house, seeing the places where he used to sit. The bed we used to share. I just walked and walked and…”

Jason could hear the tears starting to come, and quickly grabbed a box of tissues out of a desk drawer. Normally they were there for after he showed off a set of lurid photos to one of their many married clients, confirming their long-held suspicions that hubby was doing a lot more than discussing quarterly profits with that hot little number from work. This situation, though, had the potential to be a lot more serious.

Nodding gratefully, Celia wiped at her eyes with one of the offered tissues. “So that’s how I ended up here,” she said, voice trembling a little. “Maybe it was fate. Just random chance that I happened to turn down this street as I was walking. And when I saw your sign out front… I guess I hoped that maybe someone would finally be willing to help me. That somebody could finally find out what happened to my husband.”

“We’ll do everything we can, Celia,” Jason said, and for once, the compassion he put into his voice was genuine. Most clients and their petty squabbles or unpaid debts didn’t concern him or touch his heart in the slightest. But seeing the grief that Mrs. Waters was going through, Jason was already fairly certain that, by the time she walked out of his front door, he would be taking her case.

_After all, you know what it feels like to lose someone you love. Multiple experiences with it, as a matter of fact._

“Merlin Waters,” Dylan mused. “That name sounds familiar. He somebody famous?”

Celia, having regained her composure, nodded at Dylan. “I don’t know if I would say ‘famous,’” she explained, “but his disappearance did make the top story on Midpoint News for a few weeks. You see, my husband was the head of the Ecological Protection Group.”

“Right, yeah, that’s what it was,” Dylan said. “Those guys who are always out there sending stories to the press about how the big corporations are wrecking this planet, and making them clean up their acts.”

“He did a lot of great work,” Celia said. “Well, him and his team, he never could have done it all on his own. But yes, he was always hard at work, making sure that people knew about the damage that was being done to our planet and, whenever he could, use the EPG’s political connections and clout to make sure it was dealt with properly. Until about three years ago, when he just… vanished.”

Jason stared seriously at Celia. “Alright, I’m sure the police probably went over a lot of this with you already. And I apologize for dragging out any bad memories. But if we’re going to take on your case, I’m going to need to ask you some questions. Are you up to it?”

Celia nodded. “Whatever I can do to help, Mr. Lovelace. I’ll admit that I don’t know much about what happened, but I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Thank you. And you can call me Jason,” he warmly told her. “Now… when was the last time you remember seeing your husband?”

“Well,” Celia paused, glancing down at the floor. “I think it was… when he left for work that morning. Yes, I remember because I had been waiting with dinner ready for when he came home that night. I thought maybe something had come up at the office, but I called there and his secretary said he had left at the normal time. He wasn’t picking up his cellphone either, so when it got to almost midnight and there was no sign of him… that was when I called the police.”

“That morning… did he seem strange to you at all?” Jason asked. “Nervous or agitated? Anything different from his normal mood?”

Celia pursed her lips. “He was nervous, yes. But that was normal over those last few weeks. He had been getting these random phone calls. At first I thought it was work-related, maybe some CEO or politician trying to pressure him to back off. But those sorts of things had never affected him before. Not like this.”

“Did you ever overhear what he was talking about? Hear him use a name or anything like that?” Dylan chimed in.

“No, when he would get one of _those_ calls, he would always leave the room. And when he came back, he always looked… shaken. Like he had just gotten some really bad news and was trying his best to put on a brave face for me,” Celia responded.

“You never asked what the calls were about?” Jason inquired.

Celia shook her head. “I tried, a few times when they first started. He would always tell me it was ‘nothing,’ then change the subject. After the third time of him saying the same thing, I just stopped trying. I figured he’d tell me when he was ready to… but that never happened.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “So… possibly receiving threatening calls for several weeks before he suddenly disappears? And you have no idea who it could have been?”

Celia looked nervous, glancing between Jason and Dylan. “I… I have a theory, but I don’t know. It’s just… it’s frightening to consider. And you might think I’m crazy if I say it.”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Dylan said, laying a sizable hand on her shoulder. “We’re here for you, Celia. Whatever you have to say, we’re gonna take it seriously. Okay?”

After a moment of shifting nervously in her seat, she finally gave a quick nod, resolving herself. “For about a month before he disappeared… just about all Merlin talked about was… was OPT.”

“OPT,” Jason repeated, feeling a shudder run through him.

“Yes, he kept saying things like, ‘OPT is the key,’ and ‘Xing and her people are poisoning us all.’ I think… I think maybe…” she paused again, steeling herself up. “I think that maybe he was ready to blow the whistle on something massive going on at One Planet Technologies, and that… that somebody might have done something to keep him from talking.”

Jason shot a silent look at Dylan, who gave him a nervous look, making a gesture of pulling at his collar. This was getting a lot bigger than a missing person cold case.

“That was all he ever said?” Jason finally asked. “He didn’t tell you any other details about what he thought OPT was up to?”

Celia shook her head. “The only other thing was… well, it wasn’t unusual for him to focus on clean water. The ocean, especially, it was always his true passion. But he was mentioning the ocean a lot in those last few weeks, even more than he usually did. About how bad the water quality was getting, and how we were risking the death of massive amounts of sea life. And whatever was going on, I’m pretty sure it was related to all of his talk about OPT.”

Jason considered this information. A company didn’t get as big as One Planet Technologies without doing some deals under the table. But making one of their critics “disappear?” It seemed a bit extreme, even for them. But, as Celia had said… while it was frightening to consider, Jason had to consider it just the same.

And if they were willing to “disappear” somebody with as high of a profile as Merlin Waters… what would they be willing to do to a down-on-his-luck P.I. who started nosing around their affairs too much?

But the OPT thing was just a theory. For all he knew, Merlin Waters had just decided he’d had enough of his current life. Created a new identity and split town for some reason. Hell, with as many connections as he had, he’d be one of the few people that probably could find a way off the Network if he wanted to, and even make sure any record of him “OPT-ing out” was erased.

Of course, if that was what happened, there was probably no chance in hell they’d ever be able to find him. But at least they could try to give Celia an answer to the question that had been weighing on her mind for the past three years.

“Alright, I’ve just got a few more questions,” Jason said. “Assuming we take this case, we’ll probably need to get in touch with some of Merlin’s friends and coworkers. You have any advice on who we should talk to over at EPG? His close associates or people who knew a lot about what Merlin was working on?”

“Well, I know they’ve brought in a new director,” Celia said. “Rebecca Madigan, I think is her name? Yes, that was it. She would probably know something. Oh, and you should talk to Janie.”

“Janie?” Jason asked, prompting her to give him more to work with.

“I think her legal name is Jimena, but she goes by Janie. Janie Wright. Merlin hired her after they opened the portals to Huaca Brava, and he always talked about what a ‘friend of the planet’ she was. We went to visit her and her family a few times, and I could tell that she and my husband had a lot of respect for each other.”

Jason arched his brow at Dylan, and Dylan gave him a nod. Maybe Mr. Waters had more than just “respect” for this Janie. Still, the fact that Merlin was gone, and Janie was still present and accounted for, made it a flimsy lead at best.

“Yes, if anybody might know about whatever dirt my husband had on OPT, it would be Janie,” Celia considered, either not noticing the shared glance between the detectives, or not recognizing the significance. “Her family lives on Sommerset Beach, beautiful place. I can send you the SLEGWIT coordinates.”

“Yes, please,” Jason said, reaching over to a small plastic shelf on his desk and pulling a slip of thick paper stock off the top of the stack. “Here, take one of my business cards. My email address is on the bottom there. SLEGWIT coordinates and phone numbers of anyone you think might have information would be much appreciated.”

Dylan gestured at Celia’s pocket. “Hey, could I see that letter again a second?” When Celia helpfully produced the crumpled paper, Dylan scanned at the bottom. “Detective Jayne Bo… Botezatu? That’s a mouthful. Jace, you know her?”

“Can’t say we’ve spoken, no,” Jason said. “Might be a dead-end with how badly they want to wash their hands of this, but we could swing by the station house, see if maybe she’ll be willing to chat with us.”

Celia watched the two of them plan out their investigative strategy, her eyes wide and, for the first time since she’d stepped into his office, hopeful. “You really think you can find out what happened to my husband?”

Jason took a deep breath before laying it out. “Listen, I’m not going to lie to you, Celia. Cases like this… after this amount of time, with the police having already taken a look… it’s pretty unlikely we’ll find out anything new. But I can promise you this: me and my partner are going to chase down every lead we can find, use every connection we have, to try and figure out what happened to your husband. I’m not going to promise you that we’ll have an answer by the time we’re finished. But I swear to you that we won’t rest until we’ve followed every last trail of evidence we can.”

Celia nodded. “That’s all I ask. I just want to know for sure. And if you can’t find him in the end… at least I can tell myself that I tried everything I could.”

“Merlin’s a very lucky man,” Jason said warmly to her. “Would you happen to have a relatively recent picture of him on hand that my partner and I could have?”

Celia shook her head. “Not… not a physical one. I have a few at home, but I rushed out so fast that…”

“A digital one, then?” Jason asked. “One that you could email us? Just so we have something to show people if we need to.”

Nodding, Celia pulled out her phone. “Here, would this work?” she said, opening her gallery app. On screen was Celia in a bright floral dress, along with a tall, handsome tanned man in a tux, brown hair and beard streaked with patches of grey. “This is from Janie’s wedding, just a few months before he vanished.”

“That’s perfect, send it over to the email on the card,” Jason said. “Dylan, be sure to print out a few hard copies once it comes.”

Dylan pointed a finger gun at Jason and “fired” by clicking his tongue. “You got it, Jace.”

“Now, there’s one more thing I have to address,” Jason said, his tone turning grave. “My fees.” He pulled out a printed sheet from one of his desk drawers and slid it over to Celia. “My starting rate is…”

But Celia didn’t even look down at the sheet. “Whatever your normal rates are, I’ll pay you double,” she said.

Jason did his best to hide his shock. Thankfully Celia wasn’t looking in Dylan’s direction; the man had the poker face of a cartoon wolf. “Celia, you don’t have to do that. My normal rates are…”

But Celia was adamant. “I don’t want this to just be another case to you, Jason. I want you to focus on this as a priority. Money is no object to me. When my parents died, they left me enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life.” She squared her jaw as she added ruefully, “So, if you were thinking that this was something to do with an insurance payout, and me needing you to verify that my husband is dead before I can ‘cash in’ on him…”

“Celia, Celia,” Jason said, cutting her off. “The thought never crossed my mind. Anyone with even an ounce of compassion, would only have to sit in a room with you for a few minutes to see that you care deeply about your husband.” He took a moment to feign indecision. “So I suppose… with how much this obviously matters to you, double the rate listed on the sheet there would make sure we keep this matter at the front of our caseload.”

Celia picked up the sheet, scanning the numbers and nodding in approval. “Very well. I can have your initial retainer forwarded on within the hour,” she said.

“Thank you so much,” Jason responded. “Now, is there anything else you can think of before me and my partner get to work on your case?”

“Just… find out whatever you can,” Celia said. “And spare me no details. I want to believe the best of my husband, but if you should find out something… unsavory regarding his disappearance, I want you to tell me everything.” Celia forced a smile onto her face. “I know I must seem like some weeping, pathetic milksop based on what you’ve seen tonight, but trust me. Under normal circumstances, I’m much stronger than I appear.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Jason responded, rising to his feet. “I promise you, Celia. First thing in the morning, my partner and I will be hard at work on your case.”

Dylan laid a reassuring hand on Celia’s shoulders. “I’m gonna tell you something, ma’am,” he said, pointing a finger at Jason. “You’ve made the best decision you could have ever made, putting your trust in this guy. I’ve been working Jason for a few years now. And the man is a goddamn machine when he’s working a case. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t stop until he’s done everything possible for his client.”

Jason smiled at the overblown compliment from his partner, while glancing down at the desk where his head had rested earlier. Were there still a few drops of drool there, or was it just his imagination?

“And me… well, I’m pretty damn good myself,” Dylan said with a grin. “So, between the two of us, I’m willing to bet that if there’s something out there that the cops missed, we’re gonna find it for you.”

Celia nodded. “Thank you. Thank you both. You have no idea how much this means to me, to have someone finally willing to help.” Placing Jason’s card and his rates sheet in her pocket, she glanced out the window. “Now, if you don’t need anything else from me, it has gotten rather late. I’m going to head right home and send over your money and that information you needed.”

Dylan pulled out his phone. “Here, give me your co-ords,” he said. “I’ll get the SLEGWIT ready for you.”

Celia read off a series of numbers. The three of them headed out to the street, Dylan calling up a portal for Celia as they walked. By the time they reached the sidewalk, the metal archway had already been formed, the tell-tale hum of an active portal echoing in the night air.

“Thank you again,” Celia said, turning to smile sadly at both of them. “I look forward to seeing what you can turn up.”

“Have a good evening, Celia,” Jason said.

“Pleasant dreams, ma’am,” Dylan said. “And don’t you worry. Me and Jason here are going to treat this case with the utmost respect and dedication. You got my word on that.”

The two men watched as Celia turned her back on them, and stepped through the swirling blue and purple to her destination.

No sooner had she vanished, and the SLEGWIT portal folded up and rolled away, then Dylan let out a triumphant cry. “FUCK! YES!” he exclaimed, thrusting his fists in the air. Turning to Jason, he gripped him firmly by the shoulders. “Jace, my man. My best, most dear friend in the entire Network… please, please, _please_ tell me you gave her the ‘high-roller’ sheet. Don’t keep me in suspense, man.”

Jason stared intently at Dylan. “Dylan, are you serious right now? You know that I only pull those rates out for the wealthiest of our potential clients.”

Dylan’s excitement was momentarily quelled. “Oh, shit. Did you give her the ‘reasonably rich’ sheet?” When Jason didn’t respond, Dylan gasped in shock. “The… oh no. Not the ‘broke ass’ sheet. No, tell me, tell me you didn’t give her the ‘broke ass’ sheet. You soft-hearted motherfucker, tell me it wasn’t the ‘broke ass’ sheet.”

Staring down at the sidewalk, Jason sighed loudly. “I can’t lie to you, Dylan,” he said, pausing dramatically before adding with a grin, “’High roller’ sheet.”

“Aw, shit!” Dylan yelled out again. “Lovelace Investigations making serious paper tonight!”

“Shut the hell up!” said a quiet voice in the distance. “People are trying to sleep!”

Dylan turned in the direction the voice came from. “Man, screw you! We’re sleeping over here, too! Sleeping on a big pile of cash money!” He slapped Dylan on the shoulder. “Jace… you, me… we’re going hit the SLEGWIT down to Fortuna, walk into Club Crimson like the VIPs that we are, and we’re getting totally wasted!”

“Tonight?” Jason asked. “Weren’t you just saying I needed to get some sleep?”

“Man, that was before our newest client put us in the black for the first time in months,” Dylan said. He took a step towards the house. “Hey, you wait out here! I gotta get changed, but then we’re gonna go down to Fortuna. It’s gonna be lit!

As Dylan rushed off, Jason called after him. “I’ll go sit in the back while you get your makeup on!”

“Hey, joke all you want, man. I’m a prosperous motherfucker who could _afford_ makeup now,” Dylan said as he headed through the front door. Poking his head back out, he added. “Not that I could _possibly_ be any prettier than I already am.”

As the door shut, Jason headed around the side of his house, crickets chirping as he made his way to the back side of the building. There sat a simple patio table, with a set of wooden chairs and a ratty, wind-ravaged umbrella on a bent pole dangling to the side.

Sitting down on one of the creaking wooden chairs, Jason stared out into the darkness. Moonlight glistened and rippled, forming random patterns on the surface of the lake behind the Lovelace family home.

_“Jason… listen to me. There’s someone on the water.”_

That night, when he had finally charged inside, Jason had found her in the kitchen. Her phone laying with a cracked screen on the green and white tile floor. A tiny hole in the kitchen window, looking out onto the back of the house and the surface of the lake. And a pool of blood slowly creeping across the floor, forming crimson canals in the cracks between the tiles as it spilled out of the hole in her head.

And the crying. If he lived to a thousand years, he would never go a single day without hearing the crying.

“I hope you’re out there, Merlin,” Jason said softly, staring out across the water that seemed to go on forever before vanishing into darkness. “And still breathing. I’ve seen enough ghosts to last a hundred lifetimes.”


	9. Tumble

“Hey, guys, welcome to Midpoint Live, coming to you from outside of the hottest spot in all of Fortuna, Club Crimson!” the energetic host enthused into the camera. “Let me tell you, guys, it is absolutely insane out here! Seems like everyone on the Network is trying to get in here tonight!”

The live feed panned over to the long line of people milling around on the sidewalk outside of the red-tinted, towering nightclub, a red cordon separated them from the street. Several of them saw the camera and waved, one giddy blonde screaming out “We love you, Kyron!”

“Well, it isn’t hard to figure out why, Brian,” said his perky co-host, the camera moving back to the two hosts on a sidewalk across the street. “Tonight, none other than legendary pop sensation Kyron Collins is holding a massive party, celebrating the start of his ‘Feel the Magic’ Network-wide tour, and the hype is through the roof! All of the Familiars are out in droves to show their love for Kyron, and maybe catch sight of the man himself!”

A chorus of loud, hysterical cries could be heard from off-screen, and the camera quickly panned to see a flock of black-suited bodyguards, surrounding a beaming, waving young man in light eye-liner and a flamboyant outfit as he walked down the middle of the street.

“And there he is!” Brian exclaims, in a tone that implied that a prophet or lesser messiah may had been approaching. “The fans are going crazy for Kyron! Definitely a lot of Familiars in attendance tonight! Heather, you think Kyron might show off a little of the magic tonight?”

“I know _I’d_ love to see what sort of new tricks he’s come up with. We’ll just have to… oh, here it comes! He’s pulling it out!”

The crowd of fans went even wilder, as Kyron reached into an inner pocket of his bright red jacket, retrieving a thin fuchsia rod. Turning towards the crowd, he brought the tip of the wand to his lips, giving it a light kiss while winking at his rabid fans. Then, with a flamboyant motion, he swept it in a horizontal arc across the crowd. Bright lights sparked in a dazzling display, and a buzz of energy crackled through the air. Once it had all faded, the ecstatic fans looked down in amazement, at the “KYRON COLLINS – FEEL THE MAGIC TOUR” t-shirts that had appeared on the upper bodies of everyone in the arc of the pop star’s magic wand. Kyron gave them all a wave, before tucking away his wand and heading into the club with his bodyguards.

“Wow, what an amazing conjuration!” Brian said. “Folks, we’ll be outside for the rest of the night, keeping you up-to-date on any other Network celebrities who show up for this star-studded event. And a little later, our own Taylor Hobbes is going to be broadcasting live from the Club Crimson VIP Lounge, getting an interview from the man himself, Kyron Collins! You won’t want to miss it!”

* * *

“Hey! Hey, over here!” Marielle yelled out over the grating pop music, snapping her fingers in the air and waving until the bartender finally looked in her direction. God, the service in this place was shit on a normal night, and with all these screaming Kyron Collins fans filling the place up, it was even worse.

The bartender sighed as she approached. “Another one of the same, ma’am?” she blandly asked, gesturing down at the empty glass in front of Marielle.

“You’re a goddamn psychic, how did you know?” Marielle slurred. Glumly, the bartender took away the glass, and mixed up another old fashioned, setting it down on a cardboard coaster in front of Marielle.

“Pretty busy tonight. You excited about Kyron?” the bartender asked, hanging around a moment in the vain hope of getting a tip out of her.

“Wetting my goddamn panties over the little prick,” Marielle shot back, while taking a quick swallow of her drink. As she avoid eye contact and offered no sign of producing any additional money, the bartender eventually got the hint and walked off. Marielle could feel the dirty look she was getting, but didn’t particularly care. The staff around here knew what she did for a living, and that she had the means and lack of compassion necessary to make their lives a lot harder if she felt like misusing her NPA authority.

Of course, the badge wasn’t doing her a lot of favors today, though. Normally, she wouldn’t be out drinking and hunting for action two nights in a row, but under the current circumstances, it was absolutely needed. Earlier that day, Mark had filled her in on the details of the sad, high-altitude death of Howard Keenan, and even in her hungover state at the time, she was able to process that they had just been handed a big sack of flaming shit, and were gonna have a hard time finding somebody else’s doorstep to drop it off on.

Fucking Gaultier. Why’d he have to pull this shit now, of all times? Just when their caseload was starting to ease up a bit, he had to go and get a head-start on a goddamn mob war. Another reason she had decided to hang out at Club Crimson tonight: it was one of Gaultier’s “legitimate enterprises” that he used to launder his cash, and Marielle figured it would be a good idea to enjoy this place while she could, before it ended up riddled in bullets or bombed to all hell and back.

Another long swig of her drink, and she was surprised to find it empty again already. Jeez, was that wand-wielding pretty boy upstairs using his magic to steal her booze while she wasn’t watching? You just couldn’t trust those casters. Looking around for the bartender again, she reached up her hand, snapping. “Hey, ready for another one!”

But the bartender was focused on other customers. If Marielle didn’t know any better, she might think the woman was purposely ignoring her. Hey, she was a customer too, along with the twenty or so other people cramming in around the bar. She gave another few snaps, and finally the bartender walked in her direction.

…Only to move right past, and make eye contact with someone who must have just sat down on Marielle’s left. Marielle let out a disgusted sound, staring straight forward as she heard the new customer speaking to the bartender.

“Oh, my god… what in the hell are you doing behind the bar?” the woman said, an exaggerated tone of shock in her low, sultry voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be up partying in the VIP with all of the other models here tonight?”

“Figured I’d take a break from all that, see how the little people live,” the bartender joked back. “What can I get you, ma’am?”

“You know… I’ve been hearing good things about a cocktail out of Huaca Brava called a ‘chilcano.’ If it’s not too much trouble, you think you can whip me up a little something from down south?”

The bartender gave the customer a chuckle, as Marielle continued starting straight ahead, getting more and more annoyed at being ignored. “Depends. You think you can whip me up some ID?”

“Aw, aren’t you so sweet?” the customer cooed. Marielle could hear her rustling around in her pocket. “I’m going to tell my six grandchildren all about you!”

After a pause, the bartender seemed satisfied. “Well, tell them their grandmother is a charming old lady with a unique taste in drinks. I need to fetch the pisco, be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” the woman responded. As the bartender walked away, Marielle noticed a slight blush on the woman’s cheeks. God, throw a few flirts her way, and she acts like you’re the center of the goddamn universe. And here Marielle was with her glass still empty.

Looking sour, Marielle finally turned to her left, getting a look at the woman who stole her bartender away from her.

Immediately, Marielle could see why the bartender had asked for ID. If Marielle had to guess, the woman was 19, 20 at the most. Luckily for her, Fortuna’s local laws had the drinking age at 18; couldn’t get away with that in Chapel City. The woman definitely had a unique sense of fashion; instead of a shiny tight dress or stylish blouse and slacks like a lot of the ladies here tonight, she had come out to the club in an all-white men’s suit. Jacket, tie, even a wide brimmed hat perched on top of her dark brown, nearly black hair.

As if detecting her stare, the woman looked in her direction, a sparkle in her dark eyes. “You just got to know how to talk to them,” she said loudly, to be heard over the thumping music. “It’s a skill, takes a while to get it right.”

Marielle nodded, not entirely eager to engage with this strange woman any further. But she couldn’t resist saying something. “Nice hat,” Marielle remarked.

“Thanks,” the woman responded. “It’s actually a gift from my father. Last thing he ever gave me before he died.”

“Oh,” Marielle remarked. “How tragic.”

“Yeah, he said to me, ‘This hat has brought me luck my entire life. And now, to my only beloved daughter, I pass it down to you, so you can have the same luck I had.’ And the second he handed it to me…” she slapped her hand down hard on the bar. “Boom, falling rock, right on his head.”

“What are the odds,” Marielle commented.

The woman gestured with her hand, pointing it palm upward. “I know, right? Weirdest part was… we were sitting in the living room at the time. So, yeah, since then, never let this hat out of my sight.”

The bartender returned, bottle of pisco in hand, to mix the other woman’s drink. “There you go, a taste of Huaca Brava,” she said, placing the glass in front of the woman.

“Absolutely amazing, thank you so much,” the mysterious stranger gushed. “Say, while you’re here, I believe the lady next to me is empty. How about you fill her back up with whatever she’d like, and put it on my tab?”

“Oh, so we’re actually doing this, huh?” Marielle thought to herself. She wasn’t exactly sure about this chatty little thing, as admittedly attractive as she was. But of the many things - most of them unflattering – that Marielle Maxwell was known for, “turning down free drinks” certainly wasn’t one of them.

The bartender’s expression turned sour, as she turned to Marielle. “Sure. Another old fashioned for you?”

Glancing over at the other customer, Marielle shrugged. “You know what? Give me one of what she’s having.”

Grabbing the bottle of pisco again, the bartender mixed it up with ginger ale and lime juice. Tossing in a few ice cubes, she vaguely shoved it in Marielle’s direction.

“Thank you for your great service,” the woman next to Marielle said, reaching into a jacket pocket to retrieve a few bills, “Here’s a little something extra for showing me one of the prettiest smiles in Fortuna.” She slid the tip across the bar, her fingers brushing against the bartender’s before pulling away.

Marielle wanted to retch, as she watched the blushing server pick up the offered cash. “Well… if you need _anything_ else, you just give me a wave, okay?” she said, before hustling away to service another customer.

“She’s nice,” the woman remarked to Marielle.

“She’s easy,” Marielle said. “God, some women, you just have to kiss their asses, flash some cash around, and they’ll fall over themselves to let you into their panties.”

Sipping on her drink, the woman stared over at Marielle. “And what about you?”

Marielle gave her a quizzical look. “Me?”

“What’s it take to get into _your_ panties?” the woman responded, her tone casual even as a smirk crept onto her face. “Just asking for a friend.”

Marielle laughed, surprised at the other woman’s audacity. “Oh, little girl!” she exclaimed. “I really don’t think you want to go down this route. If you know what’s good for you, you wouldn’t want to spend too much time around someone like me.”

“Who says I want what’s good for me?” she questioned, running her finger around the edge of her glass as she stared at Marielle. “Sometimes bad is better. Especially tonight.”

“Really?” Marielle asked. “What’s different about tonight?”

She drummed her fingers on the bar briefly, before slapping them down palm first. “Make you a deal,” she finally said, her eyes roaming openly over Marielle’s body, checking out the skin exposed by her sexiest club outfit. “I’ll give you all the details, if you tell me your name.”

Marielle leaned an elbow against the bar, resting her head against her fist, regarding this other woman with amusement. She almost made a move to get up and walk away, but as she stared into this odd woman’s eyes, she finally gave a chuckle. “Okay, sure. I’ll play. I’m Marielle.”

“Nice to meet you, Marielle,” the other woman said, crooked smile widening to show bright white teeth. “I’m Ember.”

* * *

At that moment, walking through the crowded nightclub, Annie Longman had never been happier in her entire life.

They had walked right up to the front entrance of Club Crimson, the thick bouncer holding up a hand as they approached. But her date that night had just leaned in and whispered a few words to the beefy man, and immediately they were walking inside, while the line of people they had just bypassed yelled out in protest.

“Let’s sit there,” he said, pointing to a small, two-seater table off at the side of the club. “A little out of the way, so we can have some privacy.”

“Sure,” Annie agreed. When the two of them reached the table, he pulled out her chair, and she giggled as she had a seat.

It was all happening so quickly. Just a half hour before, she remembered stopping by the mall to pick up some new clothes for the big concert tonight. And as she stepped outside with her purchases in a bag… he had been waiting there.

He had said… what had he said? Annie tried to remember, but everything from the last half hour or so was all a blur. All that she knew was that within the first few words, she was sure that he was the coolest guy she had ever met. The next thing she knew, he was inviting her out to Club Crimson that night.

Vaguely, she remembered sticking out her tongue, reacting instinctively to the name of the lame, boring dance club. Just as she was ready to suggest that he come to the Mass Fear show tonight with her and Rayne, he had told her that she was wrong. That Club Crimson was a great place, and she wanted to go there with him. And after considering it briefly, she realized he was right. What was wrong with trying something a little different for once? Wasn’t that what punk was all about, in the end? Fucking with the head of the Man, never doing the same old thing. Besides… it was gonna be wild, seeing all those fake plastic bimbos get a look at her rolling up in her leather jacket, spiked hair, and combat boots.

But then he had told her that she needed to change. That she needed to go back to the mall, visit that trendy clothes store that Annie wouldn’t normally be caught dead in, and buy a new outfit for tonight.

And it made sense. Why should she make it obvious that a true punk was in their midst? Better to go in undercover, a wolf moving around amongst the sheep. It was such a good idea, Annie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it herself.

So she went into _that_ store; stepping cautiously inside, she scanned the racks for any sign of Sarah Joyson or one of her giggling little groupies. But the coast was clear. Picking items quickly, she grabbed a tight red dress, along with a matching set of pumps and a tiny little handbag. The perfect sort of stuff for fooling all those squares into thinking she was one of them. In the dressing room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sighed. This wouldn’t do at all. Spitting in her palm, she smoothed down the spikes of her hair, making sure her disguise as a lame “normie” was as complete as possible. The final bill once she got to the checkout counter was expensive as hell, and her parents would probably throw a fit when they saw how much she put on the credit card they had given her for emergencies. But what the hell. It was just money, another tool society used to keep the sheeple in line.

When Annie walked back out of the mall and found him again, he smiled at her and her new look, and her heart just melted. She asked him if they could stop by her home, so she could drop off the bag containing her old outfit and the clothes she had bought earlier. Glancing down at the bag she was holding, he told her to throw it away. And he was right. Annie wasn’t a slave to capitalism. She wasn’t going to get all worked up over a bunch of stuff, even if she _had_ spent almost a half hour picking it out. She shoved the bag in a trashcan without another word, and followed him through a SLEGWIT portal, stepping into the bright lights and loud crowds of Fortuna.

It was amazing. Before, she had always thought of this place as impossibly lame. Just another gaudy monument to worshipping the almighty dollar. But now that she was here, getting a close look at all the neon-colored dance clubs and casinos, she wondered why she hadn’t come earlier. “Probably because Rayne never wanted to,” she thought to herself. Remembering Rayne, there was a tickle at the back of her mind. Something to do with Rayne and tonight.

But then he smiled at her again, and it slipped from her mind. He led her through the teeming crowds towards the biggest building on the Fortuna Strip, the massive black Club Crimson with its neon red lighting. Looking around Fortuna in quiet awe, Annie asked him if maybe they could walk around for a bit before going to the club. See some of the sights since this was her first time here.

He told her no. That there wasn’t time, and that she didn’t really want to see the rest of Fortuna. And she knew that he was right, yet again. Jeez, how did this guy get to be so smart? Yeah, there was no point wasting time, when Club Crimson was obviously the best place in the entire city.

And now they were inside. She watched him across the table, realizing at that moment that she hadn’t really taken a good look at him since they’d met outside the mall. Tanned, smooth skin, short black hair slicked back. He was older than her… probably at least ten years older. But what did that matter? Age was just another thing the Man used to keep you down. “You’re too young to vote,” he said. “Too young to live on your own. To think on your own. Just do as you’re told, buy what we sell you, pollute your body with sex, alcohol and drugs to keep you calm and complacent.” The hell with that.

Her handbag was buzzing, and Annie remembered that she had thrown her cellphone in there while changing to her new outfit. Pulling it out, she saw who was calling and looked up at the man across from her. “Sorry, I need to take this.”

Putting the phone to her ear, she heard an angry voice. “Annie, where the hell are you?” Rayne yelled over the sound of a pounding drum beat and out-of-tune guitars. “You were supposed to meet me here twenty minutes ago! The opener is almost finished, and Mass Fear will be on right after.”

Right. That’s what she had forgotten. She and Rayne had been excited all week about this one: Mass Fear had broken up six years ago, but had finally worked out their differences and scheduled a big reunion show in Valley Green. But since the lead singer and bassist were back to talking shit about each other online, it was a fairly good chance that this would be their first and last concert back together.

“I… something came up,” Annie said. “I had something else I had to do.”

“Something else, are you kidding me?” Rayne yelled back in the phone. “Annie, you need to get down here, right now, or you’re going to miss the best fucking show all year! I can’t believe you would…”

“Hang up the phone,” he said, and she did it, cutting off Rayne in the middle of her rant. “It’s very rude to take calls like that when you’re with someone you love.”

She stared down at the table, face turning red. “You’re right,” she said meekly. “I’m sorry.”

She felt like puking, realizing how badly she had fucked up. How could she have been so rude to him? After all… she loved him. He had said “with someone you love,” and while she hadn’t considered it until now, she knew for a fact that it was true.

She loved this man. This man she had only met about an hour or so ago, she loved him so much. How was that possible? It was crazy, insane. She couldn’t have even imagined having these feelings before now.

But that was her. Annie Longman, craziest punk bitch in all of Wellspring. You could never predict what she’d do next.

Her phone buzzed again. Rayne calling her back. “Turn it off,” her date said, and Annie held down the button to shut off her phone without question. After a few seconds, the buzzing stopped. “Put it away. Let’s talk, Annie.”

Nodding, Annie stowed the phone away in her bag. “What do you want to talk about?”

Leaning forward, he stared deeply into her eyes, a smoldering look that made her heart skip a beat.

“Tell me about your dreams, Annie Longman.”

* * *

“…so I’m reaching up, like this, see?” Chase moved his right arm up, holding it in front of him. “Going to give her the smooth move where I lean with my hand on the locker behind her, get in all close and be like,” he deepened his tone. “’Uh… hey, baby… you wanna, like… go out with me or something?’ But while I’m moving in, some asshole bumps into my arm and bam! I smack her right in the face!”

They all laughed, Alison wincing in sympathy. “I remember that. She had a black eye for, like, two weeks!”

“Yeah, and it was just before yearbook pictures too,” Alex reminded her. “Poor girl had to get her senior picture taken with her face all red and swollen…”

The group of them were on a set of couches off to the side of the main dance floor of Club Crimson. Alison had been sure, seeing the crowd out in front, that there was no way they’d ever get inside the popular club. But Tiana had told them that she “hung out” with one of the staff there (her tone making it excruciatingly obvious what “hung out” meant), and after a quick text and the six of them heading behind the club to be let in through the loading dock by Tiana’s friend Travis, they were happily drinking and celebrating the new term together at one of the most popular nightspots on the entire Network.

“Ha, ha, ha!” Harmony Pinarello laughed along with them, carefully enunciating each individual peal of laughter. “That was a very amusing story! You meant to ask her on a social engagement, but instead you assaulted her! It is ironic!”

The rest of the group glanced at each other awkwardly. “Yeah, I think that’s a pretty good summary,” Chase said.

It had been like this the entire day, ever since Harmony had joined them on the Ethridge tour. She was friendly and genial, but something about the way she spoke was just the slightest bit off. Not that Alex and Chase cared; Alison had to force herself not to roll her eyes every time she caught one of the guys gawking at Harmony’s (admittedly amazing) body. Or the way they hung on her every word even as she spoke like she had just learned the language a week ago.

“Excuse me, miss,” said an approaching bartender as he walked up to Harmony. “The gentlemen over there requested that I bring you a glass of the most expensive drink on the menu,” he lowered a tray bearing a thin flute bubbling with fine champagne.

“Ah, how lovely!” Harmony said, taking the drink. Waving in the direction the bartender had pointed, she yelled out. “THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE, KIND SIR!” As she sipped at the drink, she smiled at the rest of the group. “My goodness, that’s the fourth time that has happened since we arrived here! The people visiting this nightclub are so friendly to strangers!”

“Uh, sweetie,” Tiana observed, looking perhaps a bit jealous at not being the one receiving attention. “I think maybe they’re buying you drinks so you’ll go over and talk to them.”

“Really?” Harmony said, eyes wide with wonder. “But why would I do that? I’m having fun sitting here talking to you all.”

“That’s right, sister,” Ashleigh quickly exclaimed. “You don’t have to feel pressured to endure a man harassing and rubbing his filthy hands all over you just because he buys you a drink. You just sit right here and you show them who’s girlboss.”

“Say, Tiana,” Alison said. “Where did you say you were from, originally?” Right about now, Alison really wanted to figure out what her new roommate’s deal was, but she didn’t want to be rude and ask her directly about whatever dark corner of the planet she came from. Or if she was even _from_ this planet. Maybe asking the other members of their group first would make it less obvious that she was fishing for information.

Tiana responded to the question with a laugh and a toss of her hair. “Oh, honey, what does that matter? That part of my life is over from this day forward. No use lingering over the past.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ashleigh chimed in. “Why should we be slaves to where we were born, or who our families are? We’re our own women now!”

Alison stared at them, confused. She hadn’t expected such evasive responses to a simple question about their hometowns. Shaking it off, she turned to Harmony. “Well, how about you, Harmony?”

“Ah, yes,” Harmony said, setting down her expensive champagne on a side table. “I… I come from…” She rested her hand on her stomach, her face turning an odd shade. The gurgle that her stomach made was audible, even over the loud music. “Oh… oh my goodness. I believe I may have consumed too many alcoholic beverages,” she said, a miserable expression on her face. “I apologize, but I have an urgent need to be visiting the restroom facilities.”

Tiana quickly shook her head as Harmony got to her feet. “Oh, honey, with these crowds, it’ll take you twenty minutes to get in there. Go back and see Travis, he’ll let you use the employee restroom.”

“Oh… thank you, Tiana,” Harmony said. “I will be back once my nausea has subsided.” She stumbled off towards the back of the club, the remaining five watching her leave with quiet fascination.

“She’s gotta be from outside the Network, right?” Chase finally asked them all. “I mean, that accent… or whatever it is, I’ve never heard anyone talk like that before.”

“Maybe she’s from some third world dictatorship or something,” Ashleigh opined, excitement filling her voice as she weaved her own backstory for Harmony. “A refugee from her own land, forced to flee the violence and savagery of her country’s fascist dictatorship, to find a new home in the relative safety of an unfamiliar culture. All while her family forms a socialist resistance movement, and fights to bring change and equality to all.”

Tiana shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not with that skin tone. She’s probably a member of some obscure royal family from a country up north. You know: sheltered, unfamiliar with the ways of the unwashed rabble. So, her family sent her here to live among the lesser people, learn how to relate to the common folk. And once she’s learned all she can… there’ll be a golden, jewel-encrusted crown waiting for her when she gets home, the people all cheering for her as she ascends to her proper position as their new queen.”

They all looked at Alex, who shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “I dunno… I mean, probably not our place to pry,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll tell us when she’s ready to.”

“Ah, you’re no fun, bro,” Chase chastised him. “Okay, crazy theory, but hear me out. She actually came from Tanglewilde. But she wasn’t born there… she was _created_ there! Some kind of experiment where…”

* * *

“Alright, this is Taylor Hobbes, and I am super pumped to be up here in the VIP room of Club Crimson with the one, the only… Kyron Collins!” the flamboyant young reporter exclaimed, speaking into the camera as he stood next to the grinning pop star. “Kyron, you’ve got to be feeling pretty good tonight! Your new album, _Spirit Connection_ , has been streamed over 150 million times since its release, and you’re set to embark on what is sure to be another amazing Network-wide tour. So, what’s going through your head tonight?”

Taylor turned the microphone to Kyron, who tapped his temple and chuckled. “You mean aside from my girl Elinaara?” he asked, and he and Taylor shared a laugh. “Seriously, though, I’m just so grateful to all my amazing fans.” He looked into the camera, shifting his sunglasses down so his slight glow of his purple eyes could be seen. “You know, I call you all my Familiars, because when I’m out there on stage, I can feel you all granting me your energy. Keeping me dancing, keeping me feeling all your love. I would be nothing if it wasn’t for you all, so just... thank you all.”

“Now, speaking of Elinaara… she actually received a writing credit on this latest album,” Taylor said. “I believe that it’s the first time in history that a caster’s eidolon had been credited on a creative work. You’ve said in the past that the album is called _Spirit Connection_ as a tribute to Elinaara. Tell us more about her input on this album.”

Kyron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a hard thing to explain, Taylor,” he said. “See, it’s the thing about when you go through the Enjoining, and you merge with your eidolon… it’s like they become a part of you. Sometimes I’ll be writing a dope line and think to myself: ‘Wait, did I come up with that… or did Elinaara?’ Like, there are times I’ll hear her voice in my head, giving me advice or cheering me on when I figure out a new spell. But sometimes it’s like it’s ‘my’ voice, too, you know? Like she and I are two people, but one person, all at the same time.” He gave Taylor a dismissive wave. “Eh, if you’re not a caster, I can’t even begin to explain what it feels like.”

“I guess not,” Taylor said. “Of course, as probably _the_ biggest celebrity caster on the Network, you’ve inspired a lot of people out there to look into learning magic, and trying to become a caster themselves. What do you have to say to all those kids out there looking to make the SLEGWIT jump down to Tanglewilde?”

Leaning close into the mic, Kyron cocked an eyebrow. “Uh… don’t waste your time?” he laughed. “Seriously, though… those guys would probably straight up turn me into a toad or something if I went around spilling their secrets like that. But I’ll tell your viewers the same thing they said to me when I was called in for my Enjoining: only about 1% of becoming a caster is figuring out ‘how.’ The other 99% is figuring out ‘why,’ and a lot of folks will try and never manage to get even close.” He pointed into the camera. “So, if you’re out there and you’re serious about feeling the magic in your life, just know that it’s gonna take years of hard work and practice, and you’re probably not gonna make it.” He shrugged and added. “So instead… you could always buy a ticket to one of my shows.”

Taylor laughed along with Kyron. “Right, right, the easiest way to feel the magic,” Taylor said. “Well, I’m gonna let you go and enjoy your party. But before we sign off, I gotta ask… you got any more tricks up your sleeve for us tonight?”

Kyron placed his finger to his lips. “Hmm, I dunno, Taylor. I’m not sure me and Elinaara have anything that we haven’t already done before.” At the same time, he reached into his pocket and slowly retrieved his brightly-colored wand. “Well, except maybe for this!”

He flung his arm out, and the people in the VIP room let out an astonished cry as a flock of large birds, with feathers every color of the rainbow, emerged from out of the glowing tip of Kyron’s wand and began flying around the ceiling. After a few seconds of the colorful animals fluttering around, their beaks opening to fill the room with beautiful bird songs, the magical animals suddenly seemed to explode, showering the astonished crowd with glittering confetti.

“Yeah, you all feeling the magic?” Kyron called out to the room, and the people answered with loud cheers.

“Wow, thank you so much, Kyron, and good luck on your tour!” Taylor said, reaching out to shake the pop star’s hand.

“Thank you,” Kyron said, shaking the offered hand before pulling Taylor in for a shoulder bump.

Taylor turned to the camera. “Alright, back to Brian and Heather out front!” He held still and waited, he and Kyron looking into the camera with bland smiles.

“And… we’re clear,” the man filming them said, and Taylor and Kyron immediately relaxed.

“Hey, thanks again, man,” Taylor said. “Good interview.”

Kyron shook his head, his tone still friendly but slightly annoyed. “Man, you fucked me up with that question about Elinaara. I sounded like a goddamn dumbass.”

Taylor shook his head. “Nah, it’s all good,” Taylor assured him. “You sounded deep, like you were discussing some philosophy or something. The Familiars will be gif-ing it by the end of the night, I bet.”

“You say so, man,” Kyron responded.

“Alright, if you don’t mind, we’re gonna get some shots for the website,” Taylor said, gestured over to someone at the side of the room. “Come on over, we’re ready for you.”

Kyron watched with an arched eyebrow as Clio approached with her digital camera, studying her closely as she crouched down slightly to begin taking shots. “Hey, make sure you get my good side,” he said, as he struck a pose and waited for the digital shutter snap. “Just kidding, they’re all good.”

Clio gestured with her hand. “Could you move a little to your left? There’s a weird shadow where you’re standing.”

Kyron glanced over at Taylor as he shifted his position. “I love it when they order me around,” he joked. Turning back to Clio, he posed with his hands on his hips. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before. You new?”

“That’s right, Mr. Collins, just started this week,” Clio responded, trying her best to focus on snapping pictures despite the sudden attention. “Turn a little to the left, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kyron said, making the requested turn and pivoting his head down to look from behind his sunglasses at her.

Taking one last shot, Clio stood up straight. “Alright, that should be good. Thanks, Mr. Collins.”

“Hey, you mind if I take a look?” Kyron said, walking over to Clio. “Not that I don’t trust that you took good shots, just… I never pass up a chance to look at myself,” he grinned at her as he moved in close, grabbing her camera from where it hung around her neck and leaning in close to her to look at the screen. “Now, how do I see…”

“Just… push that button right there,” Clio said, trying her best to stay calm while one of the biggest celebrities on the Network pressed his body against hers. “There, then the arrows will go between shots.”

“Mmm,” Kyron said, scrolling through Clio’s pictures. “Yeah, you were right, that shadow over there made me look like half my face was gone or something,” he observed. After scrolling through all the pictures, he released her camera, letting it dangle off her neck. “These look great. Looking forward to seeing them on the Midpoint front page.”

Clio brushed a lock of her short hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Mr. Collins.”

“Hey, it’s cool. Call me Kyron,” he said softly. “And I can call you…?”

Looking flustered, Clio seemed to forget her own name. “Clio,” she finally blurted out.

“Nice to meet you, Clio,” Kyron said, giving her a beaming smile. “Say, I don’t know how many more pictures you have to take tonight, but we’ll be hanging out for a while here. Drinking champagne, listening to my new album. You wanna hang with us, I’ll save a spot for you.”

Clio looked stunned. “I… wow, I…” she looked over at Taylor, who had watched all this happening with an eager expression. Seeing her look, Taylor nodded and flashed her a thumbs-up, mouthing “go for it.” “I mean, I would love to hang out. It would be an honor.”

“Alright, then,” Kyron said. “Why don’t you go stow that camera somewhere? It’s gonna be hard for you to dance with me later with that heavy thing around your neck.”

“Here, I got it,” Taylor said, walking up to take the camera off Clio’s hands. “I think we’ve got enough shots for tonight, Clio. You can stay and enjoy yourself.” Leaning in, he whispered excitedly into her ear. “You’re gonna tell me every last detail, or I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Clio nodded, as Taylor headed off, leaving her alone with Kyron in the middle of the VIP room.

“Come over here on the couch,” Kyron said, resting his hand on Clio’s shoulder and sending a quiver through her body that had nothing to do with his magical talents. “Let me introduce you to my crew.”

* * *

“So, Ember. What’s so special about tonight?”

The younger woman took another drink of her cocktail. “Tonight, Marielle, I’m going to give you a Moment.”

Marielle looked at her, not understanding. “A moment to what?”

“No, not like that. I’m talking about a capital-M ‘Moment’ here. You know what I’m saying?”

Marielle shook her head. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Look out there on the dance floor,” Ember said, leaning behind her to gesture a hand towards the group of men and women bouncing to the beat of Kyron Collins’s latest jam. “What do you see?”

Marielle followed Ember’s gesture, looking out at the club. “I don’t know. Mostly a bunch of teenage girls, from the looks of it.”

Ember pointed a finger at Marielle, grinning. “Nail, head, you. A bunch of girls. I walked in here tonight, looking to score a little action, and saw that this place was filled with girls just like those ones. Boring, nothing-going-on-upstairs girls.” She held her hands up in a gesture of guilt. “And don’t get me wrong. I’ll go home with a girl if that’s my only option. Done it more times than I care to admit. But it’s not really a challenge anymore, is it? You know, buy her a few drinks, let her grind against you on the dance floor for a little while, then take her home and finger her ‘til she squeals.” Ember shrugged. “It’s like shooting pussy in a barrel, you know? But then I look over here, on that barstool you’re sitting on, and I don’t see a girl, I see…”

“…you see a woman,” Marielle finished, sounding slightly bored. “Hey, you’re young, so bit of advice for your future hook-up attempts: most _women_ aren’t thrilled when you call attention to their age like that. Tends to make them a little crotchety.”

“Oh, Mari, Mari, quite the contrary,” Ember said, unfazed by Marielle’s shift in mood. “What I was going to say was that I didn’t see a girl, I saw a _lady_. Not a matter of age at all, but of refinement. Sophistication, knowledge. Not a girl still figuring herself out, but a lady who knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to be choosy about how she gets it.”

“’Refined’ is definitely not a word I would use, but I will admit… it’s better than ‘woman,’” Marielle said.

Ember took her half-full glass, rolling the ice cubes around in the brandy cocktail. “But I sit down and I get a closer look, and I see that this lady is looking pretty sour tonight. Beat down, had a shitty day at work that day. She’s here having a drink, maybe looking to get laid tonight. But she sees the crowd in here tonight, and her heart’s just not into it. She knows that a girl’s not going to cut it tonight. No, no way. She’s gonna need…”

“A lady?” Marielle jumped in.

Sipping her drink, Ember shook her head. “She’s gonna need a _woman._ Because that’s what I am, Marielle. I’m experienced. I’ve been around the block once or twice, and I know exactly what a lady like you is craving. A girl might get you off, but she’s not gonna give you what you _really_ need. What you need is someone who knows how to satisfy you the way a lady like you deserves, and is willing to spend all night if that’s what it takes to give it to you again… and again… and again.”

Marielle arched her brow. “A bold claim.”

“I’m a bold woman, Marielle,” Ember responded. “So, what I said about giving you a Moment. Tonight’s going to end one of two ways: either you and I are leaving here together, or separately.” She tilted her glass to the left. “We leave here separately, maybe we never see each other again. Maybe we both go home with someone different. We leave here together…” she smirked as she tilted her glass to the right. “Well, I already told you what’s gonna happen in that situation. But whether we end the night a thousand miles away from each other, or naked in bed together, it’s all going to come back to that Moment. That one split second where you make your choice… yes, or no,” she said, shifting her glass again to indicate the two options.

“So, before the night is over,” Ember continued, setting her glass back on the bar, “it’s up to you to decide what that Moment is going to be. Because whatever you choose, I guarantee you that that Moment is going to stick with you the rest of your life. Are you going to remember it as the one big unknown in your life? That time when you met that sexy, well-dressed woman at the club and turned her down? Wondered for years afterward if all of her big claims were true, and if you missed out on what could have been an amazing experience? Or is it going to be that Moment you always remember, where you took a chance? Made the plunge and surrendered yourself, mind and body, to a woman who satisfied you in ways that no one else ever had before, or will ever be able to again? Whichever way it goes, that Moment is coming up soon, Marielle,” Ember said, as she swallowed the rest of her drink. “And I, for one, can’t wait to see which Moment it’s gonna be.”

Marielle stared at Ember, who stared back intently, expectantly. “Well,” she finally said, “You certainly are a smooth talker if nothing else, Ember.”

She responded with a light shrug. “Always have been told I have a way with my tongue,” she said, then quickly added. “Oh, I don’t mean like that. I just mean like later tonight, when I’ve got my face between your thighs.”

Marielle laughed. “Oh my God, you are quite a character,” she remarked. “Well, no matter what happens tonight, Ember, you did at least manage to give me a few laughs. Kinda what I needed, to be honest.” She took a long swig of her own drink. “Because you’re right. It was a pretty rough day at work.”

“That’s a shame,” Ember responded, her hand reaching out to lightly stroke the back of Marielle’s. “So what does this lady do for a living, other than make me want to bang her?”

A smile crept onto her face. “Now I’ll make _you_ a deal, Ember,” Marielle said. “If you can guess what I do, I’ll leave this club with you, right now. See if all your bragging about ‘knowing how to satisfy a lady’ is bullshit or not.”

“Oh, it’s not,” Ember said. She leaned an arm on the bar, resting her cheek on her fist and pondered. “So, what is Marielle’s vocation?” She scrunched up her face. “Hint?”

Marielle shook her head. “Nuh uh. Not going to make it easy on you. What’s the matter, Ember? Am I that much of an enigma to you?”

“An enigma inside of a riddle inside a killer body,” Ember said. “Ugh, well, I’m not seeing any tattoos, so definitely not the military.”

“Wow, starting that far off, you’re going to need a couple dozen SLEGWIT portals to make it to your destination,” Marielle taunted.

Ember scratched at her scalp underneath her hat. “Ugh, this isn’t fair,” she groused. “I don’t know… off the top of my head, I’d say… TV producer.”

Marielle sighed. “Oh, I’m afraid you’re on the wrong channel, darling,” she said.

“Alright, fine,” Ember countered. “How about the other way around?” She made an odd laugh. “Because I’m preeeeeettty sure you would never be able to guess me, even if I gave you all night.”

“Mmm, challenge accepted,” Marielle said. “Well, you’re fairly confident. Probably something that interacts with the public a lot. But you’re still fairly young, so not some high-level executive or anything like that. If I had to guess…” she ran through it in her head, and then guessed, “some sort of corporate sales manager?”

Ember slapped her hand on her thigh. “Holy crap, you’re amazing! You some kind of detective or something? Sales manager, exactly!” She glanced towards the door. “Well, alright, guess I have to honor our bargain. You figured out what I do for a living, so guess we should be getting out of here now.”

“No!” Marielle exclaimed, her laugh a little too loud as she felt the drinks of the evening going to her head. “That wasn’t the deal! _You_ have to guess _me_ , remember?”

Ember shook her head. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m remembering right. You guess what I do and if you’re right, we leave here together.”

“Nice try,” Marielle said. “Come on, how about you flash that sexy smile of yours and get that rude bartender back here. I feel like another drink.”

Trying her best not to show disappointment, Ember started to raise her hand, when she suddenly felt for her pocket. Reaching in and pulling out her phone, Ember sighed loudly.

“Something the matter?” Marielle asked.

“No, just… just some vitally important sales manager business I have to go attend to, as someone who manages sales as a sales manager,” she remarked. “Listen, do _not_ go anywhere! I will be right back, and this time, I’m going to definitely figure out what you do, Marielle.”

“Good luck,” Marielle said, turning back to the bar and snapping her fingers. “Hey, bartender! Another one of these, please! Hey, over here!”

Slipping off her stool, Ember quickly made her way through the club, staring at the text on her phone and cursing under her breath.

* * *

“Holy crap,” Dylan said, the handsome young P.I. scratching the back of his neck. “Well, this place is usually popular, but I had no idea it was going to be _this_ packed tonight.”

Jason shrugged, having already felt uncomfortable getting dragged along to Fortuna with Dylan. At his age – somewhere between “boring old dad” and “boring old grandpa” – this sort of place really wasn’t his scene. “Ah, well,” he said with a resigned tone. “Maybe we should head back to Wellspring, go to that little place with the island theme. I like those little umbrellas.”

“No way, Jace,” Dylan declared. “I told you we were going big tonight, celebrate landing that case, and I ain’t letting you down, man. Pretty sure I can get us in there. I know one of the bouncers at this place from a long time back. As long as he’s working tonight, I’m sure he’ll let us jump the line.”

At this point, Jason didn’t care much one way or the other. The buzz of nabbing one of their biggest clients in more than a year had faded, replaced by growing fatigue from lack of sleep. “Maybe we should just call it a night,” he said to Dylan, letting out a yawn. “Get some rest so we can start bright and early tracking down Mr. Waters in the morning.” He looked around at the bright lights and glittering glamor of Fortuna, the whole place making him feel even more exhausted. “Look, if you’re dead set on it, we can try back some other night if…”

And then, as he looked off down the street, his eyes locked on someone. He stared for several seconds, not sure if what he was seeing was real or not.

When he was sure that it was, he started running.

“Jace!” he heard Dylan calling after him. “Jace, what is it? Where are you going?”

Ignoring him, Jason pushed his way through the crowds of people, Dylan’s voice fading behind him. “Gina!” he called out. “Gina, wait!”

For a moment, he thought he was wrong. That it was just another young, brown-haired woman with a similar face. But she looked up at the sound of her name, turning to see him coming in her direction. Rather than stopping, however, she instead quickened her pace, turning off the main Fortuna strip and down into a side street.

“Gina, please stop for a second!” Jason yelled out. “Gina, please!”

She continued ignoring him, up until he finally caught up to her. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she whirled on him, eyes narrowed.

“No!” she exclaimed. “No, we are _not_ doing this! I told you! I want you out of my life! And now you’re following me around? Stalking me on my way home?”

“Stalk… no, Gina, I just happened to see you,” Jason said, his voice soft and desperate. “Please, listen to me for a second. I know that…”

“Stop it, stop, just stop!” Gina cut him off, jabbing a finger in his chest as she snapped at him. “I’ve heard more than enough of you trying to talk your way out of your mistakes. I’ve had years of that already, and I’m done. So don’t say another goddamn word to me, okay?”

Jason’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I screwed up, but…”

“I’m leaving,” Gina said, stepping away from him. “If you keep following me, I’m going to call for a cop. Just… let it go.” Disgusted, she turned on her heel and walked away, never looking as she walked off into the night.

“Jeez, you’ve still got some hustle on you,” Dylan said as he came up behind Jason, breathing heavily. He saw the back of the brunette woman walking away, then looked at Jason. “Who was that, Jace? Ex-girlfriend or something?”

Jason stared at the ground. “My daughter,” he responded.

Dylan looked at Jason, shocked. “Daughter? You never told me…”

“Go have a drink without me, Dylan,” Jason said wearily. “I think I’m going to take a walk for a bit. See you back at home, okay?”

Dylan watched as Jason shuffled away. “Uh… sure thing, man. See you around.”

Once Jason was out of sight, Dylan shook his head. “Man, a daughter. Here I thought I knew that dude,” he muttered to himself. He started to head back to the club, then paused in his tracks. “Shit, I ain’t going out drinking alone. And now that I’ve got some cash to throw around…” He went through his contacts, searching through the numbers. After a few clicks, he put the phone to his ear. “Hey, gorgeous, long time no see,” he smoothly spoke to the person on the other end. “You working tonight?” A pause for the response. “Yeah, I finally got some money coming in, so it’s all good. Meet you at Club Crimson?” Another pause. “Mmm, can’t wait to get a taste of that sweet, sweet body of yours again, baby. See you soon.”

Hanging up, Dylan put his phone away, then cursed under his breath. “Shit, I hope Pete’s working tonight. And he forgot about that money I owe him.”

* * *

“What up, crew?” Kyron proclaimed, as he and Clio walked up to a set of couches against the back wall of the Club Crimson VIP room. “Y’all feeling good tonight?” Affirmative sounds came from the three men already sitting, all of them flanked by a bevy of beautiful women in tight, revealing outfits.

Clio suddenly felt a bit self-conscious: she had dressed professionally tonight, thinking it was nothing but her first real work gig and she would head back home right after the photos were taken. She really did have nice outfits that would be better suited for a night of clubbing, and almost considered asking Kyron if she could step out for a few minutes to hop in a SLEGWIT and go get changed.

Then she remembered that, in preparation for her big move, she had already packed up all her good clothes in boxes. She dropped the idea in her mind. As weird as she felt, she was just going to have to deal with it.

One of the men, a bronze-skinned man in a slick jacket and baseball cap, glanced over at her after exchanging a fist bump with Kyron. “Who’s this, Kyron?” he asked. “She from the label or something?”

“Nah, man, this here is Clio,” Kyron said. “She took some dope pictures of me for Midpoint, and I thought she might wanna come hang out tonight.” The pop star turned to Clio. “Clio, this is T-Nasty. Laid down some killer rhymes for one of the tracks on my new album, so I figured I’d let him have the honor of hanging out with us for a little while tonight. Not _too_ long, though,” he said, giving the rapper a teasing grin.

“Shit, just wait til my album drops, man,” the man responded. “You’re gonna be sitting around that big mansion of yours mopin’, like,” he raised the timbre of his voice. “’Aw, golly, wasn’t it swell when I got to be friends with the best rapper alive? Then his album came out and nobody cared about my weak disco bullshit anymore!.’” Laughing, he looked over at Clio. “What up, Clio. Call me Terrell, by the way.” He looked back at Kyron. “Man, you remember that one girl you were hanging out with, insisted on calling me ’Mr. Nasty?’ Like, ‘How do you do, madam,’ he spoke in a posh accent. “’I am the honorable Sir Terrell Phineas Nasty the Third.’”

Clio laughed along with the rest of the group, as Kyron gestured towards the next man on the couch, a slim looking white guy in a stylish suit and sunglasses. “And this is Mick Newell, dopest producer that ever lived.”

“Oh, I know you!” Clio said, moving forward to stick out her hand. “My brother Tobin loves your work. Always says he would know he made it in the music business if he could get a track produced by Mick Newell.”

“Your brother’s got good taste,” Mick said, giving Clio’s hand a brief shake. Clio briefly considered rattling off her brother’s TuneHub URL to the big-name producer, but decided against it. Just a good way to look like she totally didn’t belong here… which she probably didn’t, anyway.

“And this is Pete,” Kyron indicated the last man on the couch, a chubby guy in a hooded jacket. “Pete’s just here because I think his sister’s hot.”

Pete responded by holding a fist in front of his face, knuckles facing upward. With his other hand, a smoking joint between the fingers, he waved an imaginary wand. “Alakazam, presto!” he exclaimed, as he made a “poof” sound with his mouth, and raised his middle finger in Kyron’s direction. He waved the extended bird around the group like he was showing off a magic trick. “A round of applause for Fuckboy the Magnificent!”

Laughing, Kyron looked over at Clio. “Nah, seriously, Pete’s been my boy since back in grade school. Never could find anybody else who’d let me test my first spells on them. But Pete here was always willing to be my guinea pig.”

“Yeah, remember that time you cast that one on me, _Footlongus Cockus_ ,” Pete said, looking over at one of the ladies sitting next to him with a leering grin. “Yeah, you know you want to take a peek, don’t you?”

As Kyron and Clio took a seat at the end of one of the couches, Kyron gave Pete a chiding look. “Dude, come on, be cool,” he said, gesturing towards Clio.

“It’s fine,” Clio said, giving the group an unaffected smile as she settled into her seat. “Trust me, I’ve heard a lot worse get yelled at me on the streets back home in Huaca Brava.”

“Ah, so you _are_ from the newest subsidiary of Dr. Xing’s little empire,” Mick said. “Thought you had that Huaca Brava look to you.”

Pete let out a low chuckle. “Dude, it’s happening,” he said to the group. “The checklist is getting finished tonight.”

The rest of the men on the couches glared at Pete. “Man, shut up,” Terrell hissed to Pete. “You’re gonna fuck it up.”

Clio stared around the group, feeling like she was being left out of some private joke.

“Never mind, forget I said anything,” Pete said, turning to Clio. He extended his hand to Clio, smoking joint pointed in her direction. “Here, you want a hit off this? Don’t know if you have this stuff down in Huaca Brava, but you should definitely give it a try. Just take a slow, deep breath, let it fill your lungs.”

Clio stared at the joint. “Oh, my,” she gasped, eyes widened in shock. “Is that… one of those mary-juana cigarettes? I’ve heard those can be dangerous. Are you trying to turn me into a drug addict, Pete?”

Pete stared at her incredulously. After a moment, he started to withdraw his hand. “Yeeeeahh, I…”

“I’m kidding,” Clio cracked a smile. Plucking the joint from between his fingers, she casually took a puff. “Come on, I just got out of college,” she said, blowing out smoke before passing it back to Pete. “I didn’t spend four years reading scripture in my spare time.”

The group laughed. “She’s alright, man,” Pete said to Kyron.

“So, what’s it like down there in Huaca Brava?” Terrell asked. “Been meaning to scope it out since y’all got put on the Network, but just haven’t gotten around to it.”

Clio leaned back on the couch, resting her arm along the back. “Being honest? You’re not missing much,” she said. “I mean, it’s where I’m from, and I’ll always think of it as home. But for somebody who wasn’t born there, I doubt you’d get a lot of excitement out of paying a visit. We’re still kinda adjusting to being on the Network, even after five years. I’m sure in a decade or so it’ll be built up a lot more, but for now… just a bunch of simple folk living their lives. And trees. Lots and lots of trees.” She stared up at the ceiling. “Sooooo many trees.”

“Well, I’m always on the hunt for… trees,” Pete said with a chuckle, taking a hit off his joint. “Sounds like my kind of place.”

“Afraid all _these_ trees are good for is blocking out the sun,” Clio said. “So, you know, _keeping_ you from getting baked.”

Mick nodded sagely. “I believe that’s what they call ‘irony,’”

The group laughed together, Clio already feeling a bit of a buzz from her sampling of the potent weed Pete was smoking. Despite her initial nervousness about hanging out with a bunch of big-name celebrities, she already felt like she was fitting in.

“Ah, man,” Kyron suddenly said, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out his phone. “That’s my agent trying to call me,” he said. “Probably got numbers on the first batch of ticket sales for the tour. Y’all mind if I go call her back?”

“Nah, man, go ahead. Can’t wait to hear how much cash those Familiars of yours are dropping in your pocket,” Terrell said. “Shit, reminds me, I need to come up with some stupid nickname for my fans one of these days.”

“Yeah, we already got a name for people who like your music, man,” Pete said as Kyron walked off, the stoner giving Terrell a sleepy grin. “We call them ‘grade schoolers.’”

Terrell blew out of his pursed lips. “Man, fuck you,” he said to Pete, although his tone was still friendly. “Least I actually make shit, not just sit on my fat ass and smoke up everyone else’s weed.”

“’Shit,’ that’s a good word for what you’re making,” Mick chimed in. “The mix on that single, man… I could have done a better job just banging my head against the sound board.”

“You want, I could help you with that,” Terrell remarked.

Clio sat and watched Kyron’s three friends trade banter. Trying to interject her way back in, she finally lightly cleared her throat at a pause in the conversation. “So… what’s the checklist?”

All three men turned in her direction, looking a bit uncomfortable. “It’s nothing,” Mick quickly said.

“Yeah, just a stupid joke of Pete’s, don’t worry about it,” Terrell agreed.

Pete looked at the two of them. “Aw, come on, she ain’t stupid! I mean, she’s gotta know why Kyron brought her around to hang out tonight, right?”

“Know what?” Clio asked Pete.

“See, my boy Kyron, he’s kinda like… a goodwill ambassador or something,” Pete said, while the other two men sighed and looked away awkwardly. “He’s made it his mission to show the… heh, ‘magic’ to ladies from all around the world. My man’s hooked up with some of the finest hoes, from just about every city on the Network.”

Clio felt herself go numb, not even needing to hear Pete finish to know where this was going. God, she had been so naïve. Why else would the biggest pop star on the planet have grabbed up some random photographer to hang out with him?

“But he still hasn’t done the full tour,” Pete was still talking, not noticing Clio’s obvious discomfort or not caring. “Still hasn’t banged any Huaca Brava hotties. So, congrats, girl, When you spread your legs for my boy tonight, he’s finally gonna finish off his checklist.”

Feeling the blood rush to her face, Clio got to her feet. “Man, Kyron’s gonna beat your ass for this one,” she heard Mick saying as she quickly walked away.

As she was nearing the velvet rope dividing the VIP area from the rest of the club, she saw Kyron returning from his call. “Hey, you leaving already?” he asked. “I was just going to order us some champagne.”

“Sorry, I have somewhere else to be right now,” Clio snapped at him. “I guess you’re gonna have to find some other stupid Huaca Brava ho to finish your checklist.”

“What?” Kyron said, then looked aggravated. “Oh, he didn’t… dammit, Pete.”

“Yeah, he told me all about your ‘mission,’” Clio said, her tone filled with barely-contained fury. “God, I can’t believe I thought you were a good guy.”

“Hey, hey, hey, listen to me for a second,” Kyron said, whipping off his sunglasses to put his luminescent caster eyes on display. “Just give me a chance to explain.”

Clio seethed, but she didn’t walk away just yet.

“Pete’s just talking shit, okay,” Kyron said. “There was this one time a few months, I was hanging with this girl from Falcon Mesa, and he made this joke like, ‘Hey, looks like you’re trying to bang a chick from every city on the Network. You making a checklist or something?’ This whole ‘checklist’ thing is just his idea of a joke, that’s it.”

Clio looked into Kyron’s purple eyes. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, really,” Kyron said. “That’s just how Pete is. He thinks he’s funny, but a lot of the times he just acts like a douche. Sometimes I think I should cut that worthless stoner out of my life for good, but I guess I’m just a soft-hearted guy in the end.” Shaking his head, he stared seriously at Clio, his purple eyes seeming to crackle with electricity. “But for real, if he told you I was just hanging out with you tonight to have sex with you… not true. Absolutely not true.”

Clio bit her lip, letting out a sigh. “God, I’m such a stupid, naïve dumbass,” she finally said. “Your friends were just messing with me, and I got all bent out of shape about it.”

“Hey, come here a second,” Kyron said softly, directing Clio to a circular booth table at the edge of the VIP lounge. He sat beside her, putting his sunglasses back on before leaning in close to talk quietly. “Let me show you something, might make you feel better. I’ve got a new trick I’ve been working on, something really special. You like magic?”

Clio wasn’t sure that this was exactly the time, but she had to admit that she found the powers that these “casters” wielded quite interesting. Tonight had been the first time she had seen any real magic in person, and she wouldn’t mind getting a chance to watch more of it. “Okay, sure,” she said.

“Here, hold up your hand,” he said. Clio raised her right hand, palm upward, and he took her by the wrist. “Now, close your eyes. And no matter what, don’t open them until I tell you. Okay?”

Clio nodded, shutting her eyes.

“Now, just wait… the magic is going to happen soon,” Kyron’s voice came from out of the darkness of her inner eyelids. “You’re going to feel your hand start to move of its own accord. Do you feel it, Clio?”

As he spoke, Clio felt Kyron tugging on her wrist, directing her hand closer to him… and downward.

“What are you…” she started to ask.

“Shh…” he quietly hushed her, his breath blowing against her ear. “Just give it a few more seconds. I swear, it’s going to be magic that you’re never going to forget.”

Clio felt her hand moving further and further down. It was when she barely heard, over the pounding music of the club, the sound of a zipper being pulled down that her eyes snapped open.

“Are you… oh my god!” Clio exclaimed in disgust. Her hand had only been a few inches from Kyron’s open fly when she had opened her eyes, and he had been about ready to place it down on his erect penis under the booth table.

Yanking her hand away, Clio shoved her way past Kyron and jumped to her feet, while the pop star cackled. “Hey, come on! Don’t you want to see the big finish, baby? I thought you liked magic!” he called after her, as she ducked under the VIP room rope before the security could open it and quickly pushed through the crowds of people on her way to the exit.

* * *

“All these people getting worked up over some jerkoff with a little pink wand. I swear, just burn the whole Network down and start fresh. Can’t be any worse than what we got now.”

Despite the circumstances, Ambrose couldn’t stop himself from smiling at his underling’s usual cheerful attitude. “I take it, Lara,” he said, “that you’d rather be at the big Mass Fear show over in Valley Green tonight?”

Ambrose turned away from the panes of glass looking out on to the dance floor of Club Crimson, to face Lara sitting sideways in one of his expensive leather chairs, her legs slung over one of the arms as she casually puffed away at a cigarette.

Lara scoffed. “You think I’m into that mall punk bullshit? That crap’s almost as bad as Twinkletoes McFuckface or whatever his name is,” she muttered. “The same sellouts just sucking different cocks. Shit ain’t real music.”

“I’ve listened to some of your ‘real music’ recently, Lara,” said Ricardo Olivares. The tan-skinned man was sitting in another chair on the other side of the room, clicking a pen in his hand nervously. “Or… no, wait, that was just the sound of the construction they were doing in my neighborhood. Very difficult to tell the difference sometimes.”

Lara narrowed her eyes at Ricardo, but said nothing. Ambrose turned back to the windows and watched the people dancing and partying twenty feet below them. He and his associates were currently in Ambrose’s private office at Club Crimson, waiting in nervous anticipation.

“You think he’s gonna show?” Lara asked. She leaned her head backwards, getting an upside-down view of Ricardo as she took another puff on her cigarette. “What’s Mr. Prediction over there thinking, huh? You know the future on this one?”

Reaching up, Ricardo pressed on the side of the high-tech glasses he wore. A tiny projector on the thin plastic frame activated, displaying a hovering holographic image in front of his face. “Latest projections from Aegir put the odds at around 49.7 percent,” he calmly informed them.

This made Lara hiss between her teeth. “So, you’re saying that fancy computer of yours makes predictions at about the same accuracy as flipping a goddamn coin,” she groused. “Makes me feel real confident about dancing around to your tune, when a wild fucking guess has just as much chance of keeping our asses out of the fire.”

“Miss Durham, if you would actually consider the situation,” Ricardo responded, deactivating the holographic projector with another tap on his glasses, “instead of investing all of your brainpower coming up with new ways to use the same seven vulgarities in various combinations, you might be able to appreciate that…”

“Could we focus, please?” Ambrose cut them off. “These next few minutes could be the difference in preventing a lot of bloodshed. I’d rather we don’t spend that time trading insults among each other.”

“Sorry, boss,” Ricardo responded. Lara said nothing, but Ambrose decided that her silence was the best he was going to manage.

After a tense moment, Ricardo finally spoke up. “You’re sure we shouldn’t make contact with the other detective, boss?” he asked. “I know for a fact that she’s here at the club tonight. Perhaps she’ll be more willing to listen to reason than Detective McLoughlin.”

Ambrose shook her head. “McLoughlin is the brains of their partnership,” he calmly reasoned. “If anyone is going to solve this case, it will be McLoughlin. He’ll come around to accepting my assistance eventually. Of that I have no doubt.”

Another disgusted grunt from Lara. She said nothing, though. She already knew that her objections to an attempted alliance with the police would fall on deaf ears by this point.

There was a knock on the door, all of them tensing up as one of the club’s burly security team cracked open the door and stuck his head inside. “Mr. Gaultier… he’s here.”

All of them immediately sat up straight, Lara swinging her thick black boots around to rest on the floor. “Send him up at once,” Ambrose said, as he had a seat at his elaborately-carved desk, his back to the massive windows overlooking the club.

They sat in silence. All of them knew how important this was. Perhaps Lara and Ricardo weren’t as concerned about the implications of a mob war as Ambrose was, but his most trusted associates knew that it mattered to _him,_ and so it mattered to them.

After a wait that seemed to stretch for an eternity, the door opened again.

Stepping into the room was a fairly unassuming middle-aged man in a blue double-breasted suit. His black hair had long since retreated from his upper forehead, but what remained was slicked back meticulously. Behind him, two large and intimidating gentlemen entered, taking a position at either side of him and crossing their arms. He paused just inside of the office, cold grey eyes darting around the room as if searching for any hidden ambush. Lara glared back at him, fearlessly, while Ricardo kept his eyes focused on his employer, watching as Ambrose rose slowly to his feet.

“Mr. Ariano,” Ambrose said, indicating the chair on the other side of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Edgar Ariano’s face was blank as he moved forward. The two goons stood at either side of the office door, their eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses but obviously keeping an eye on Ambrose’s associates. In no particular hurry, the rival crime lord settled down into the chair. His eyes remained locked on Ambrose the entire time, his expression cold.

“I appreciate you coming,” Ambrose said, taking a seat behind his desk. “I know your time is valuable, so I will come straight to the point.” He leaned forward on his desk, hands crossed in front of him. “I am aware of the unfortunate loss of your associate Mr. Keenan. Naturally, considering our current antagonistic relationship, it would be foolish of you not to suspect me of being involved in his demise. But I assure you, Mr. Ariano, that my organization is not responsible for Mr. Keenan’s death.”

Ariano said nothing, his eyes still fixed on Ambrose, his expression unreadable.

“But I do not just offer my word as a signifier of my assurances,” Ambrose said. He made a gesture over to Lara, slowly so as not to have his rival mistake the motion as any sort of threat. Standing up, Lara picked up a nearby briefcase and laid it in front of Ariano. She shot a glance at Ambrose, disapproval in her stare, before opening the latches and swinging the briefcase open. Inside, rows upon rows of bundled currency had been arranged. Ariano glanced briefly at the money, before returning his stare to Ambrose.

“This case, Mr. Ariano, contains a significant portion of my profits over the past year. I bestow this on you as a gesture of good faith. And as a show of sympathy for your loss. And there is this,” Gaultier made a gesture towards Ricardo, who placed a printed map of the cities on the Network in front of Ariano on the desk. Several of the districts indicated on the paper were highlighted in red.

“I have informed my associates in the below locations that we will be ceasing all of our operations here,” Ambrose explained, “and allowing individuals of your own choosing to take over the various opportunities in these regions. I think you’ll agree, if you would look over this map, that this represents a substantial ceding of my holdings. Again, I expect nothing in return for this boon. Just your faith in my assurances that I wish for our current ‘war,’ as it is, to remain a cold one.”

Holding his hands out, palms up, Ambrose stared intently at his rival. “We can put a stop to any potential bloodshed, right here and now. All that I ask, Mr. Ariano, is that you trust me. And that you look at what I’m prepared to offer you as a sign of that trust,” he gestured with both of his hands at the briefcase of money, and the map. “Mr. Keenan’s death was tragic. But it doesn’t have to lead to further tragedy. I hope, Mr. Ariano, that you are a man of reason. A man of temperance. And that you will allow this matter to come to its conclusion right here, in this office.”

Ambrose waited, as Ariano continued staring at him with an utter lack of expression. No one moved, the silence hung in the air like a thick cloud.

Finally, Ariano spoke. “Must have been about seven years ago,” he said, his voice measured and calm as he stared Ambrose in the eye, “I’m looking at the numbers coming out of Fairchance. We’d just started out there, a few gambling halls, some moonshine stills. Low grade stuff, pennies compared to the numbers I’m making today. But I’m looking over these numbers… and I’m looking at them… and it’s just not adding up. I ask my people, does this look right to you? They all say, ‘no, boss, there’s something missing here.’ Now, I’m pretty sure somebody’s skimming off the top, but I ain’t got a clue who. So I take a few of my boys, and I pay a visit to one of my places down there. Totally picked one at random, had no idea where the money was disappearing from at that point, but you gotta start somewhere. So I walk in there, and I just stare all of them down. Like, ‘I know. I know one of you is skimming. And if I find out who it is, you know what’s gonna happen next.’”

Ariano continued, his voice never changing in volume or tone. “And I guess I got a good nose for this stuff, or I just got lucky. Because just a few minutes after I get there… this skinny little punk goes for his piece. Guess he figured I already knew it was him, and hoped he could pop me and make a run for it. But truth was I had no idea he was the guy. Didn’t even know he was the guilty one until I saw him coming right at me. And just then, when I’m staring down the barrel of that pistol, seeing my life flashing… in comes Howie. That crazy bastard shoves his way in between me and that punk with the gun, and he takes that bullet that was aimed at my heart, right in the shoulder.” Ariano pointed to the spot on his own body. ”And when they were patching him up after, you know what he said? He told the doc, ‘You stop the bleeding, you do what it takes to keep me alive… but you leave that bullet inside me.’ And he looks at me and he says, ‘I want you to always remember, boss, that that bullet that could have taken you out… is still inside me.’ And you know something? I remembered.”

Slowly rising to his feet, Ariano leaned forward onto Ambrose’s desk. “So, if you think… that this fucking territory,” he jabbed a finger at the map, his low steady voice suddenly rising to a shout, “and this fucking money,” he grabbed the briefcase and hurled it across the office, bundles of cash scattering across the thick red carpet, “are going to make me forgive you for what you did to Howie, then you are fucking mistaken!”

“Mr. Ariano, please,” Ambrose tried to remain calm in the face of his rival’s sudden red-faced rage.

“You think I’m a fucking moron, Gaultier?” Ariano screamed, jabbing a finger downward at the sitting Ambrose. “You think I don’t know how you operate? I know all about that boat you sank in Eagle Bay! Bet you told those sorry bastards the same fucking lies, didn’t you? How you just wanted peace and all that bullshit? Well, I’m not letting you backstab me too, you piece of shit! You did Howie, I know you did it, and you’re gonna suffer for it! You… and your people… and their families… they’re all gonna suffer for it! I goddamn well promise you that!”

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Ariano, I appreciate that you’re upset. This is a difficult time for all of us. But do _not_ threaten my associates. I brought you here under a banner of peace, and I would still be willing to negotiate a fairer deal in the hopes of achieving that peace.” His tone turned dangerously cold. “But I swear to you: if any of my employees are to come to harm, and I find that you are responsible… I will bring down vengeance on you the likes of which you cannot even begin to imagine.”

Staring at Ambrose, his anger only mildly reduced from his initial outburst, Ariano kept his finger pointed in Ambrose’s direction. “You want a deal? Fine, let’s make a deal!” he exclaimed. “One week. I’ll give you one week. You come to me, and you bring me proof that you didn’t kill Howie. Indisputable proof, not just some punk you threatened into making a confession. I’ll give you a week to make me believe that you didn’t pull this hit, and to deliver me the head of the son of a bitch who did.” He gave Ambrose the savage smile of a predator. “And once your time runs out and you’ve got nothing for me… then everything you’ve built up over all these years… it’s all gonna burn.”

Ambrose remained serious and calm. “Mr. Ariano… you have to know that you can’t win this,” he said. “While you have many assets at your disposal, I have more territory. More people. And more money. In an open war between our organizations, you are doomed to failure.”

Ariano sneered. “Maybe I’ve got resources you don’t know about, you thought of that?” he asked. “And even if you’re right… I’m happy to go to hell knowing that I dragged you screaming down with me.” Breathing heavily, he leaned forward on the desk again. “One week, Gaultier. You give me the guy in one week, or you and all your people are fucked.” He slammed his fist down on the desk for violent emphasis.

“Very well,” Gaultier responded. “I will begin my inquiries immediately.”

Standing up straight, Ariano adjusted his tie, before turning to the door. He snapped his fingers at one of his men, who opened the door for his boss, and the crime lord and his thugs left without another word.

Staring down at the scattered cash on the ground, Lara rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, I don’t think that could have possibly gone any worse.”

* * *

Making her way through the club, Ember held up her phone as she rapidly walked, reading the text over again.

As Ember walked, she quickly typed out a message. “thx for the heads-up, mel. ppr will be in ur hands tmrrw. ttyl," and directed her rapid pace towards a door at the other side of the club marked “STAFF ONLY.” On the way there, she began sniffling, forcing tears to her eyes as quickly as she was able.

Her hurried pace was only momentarily paused as she spotted someone out of the corner of her eye. “Is that… Annie Longman from school?” she thought to herself, staring at the girl in the expensive red dress sitting at a table with some guy Ember didn’t know. “What is she doing here, dressed like that? And with that older dude instead of her bff Rayne?”

It was definitely odd, but she didn’t have time to think about it right now. She resumed her frantic dash to the door at the back of the dance floor, glancing around to see if anyone was looking before shoving her way through.

She found herself in a back hallway of the club, the loud music from the club muffled considerably. She was about to push the button on her phone to make the call, when somebody yelled out from behind her. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be back here!”

“Oh, my God,” she said, her voice trembling and her cheeks already damp as she turned to see the staffer – a younger man in janitor coveralls with a name tag reading “TRAVIS” – approaching her. “Please, I need to… my dad just texted me that my mom’s back in the hospital. Oh, shit, we thought it was in remission, but she might be…” she wiped at her face, while increasing the frantic pace of her words. “I need to make a call, hear her voice again… for maybe the last time. But it’s too noisy out there. Please, just give me a few minutes back here where it’s quiet, it might be my only chance to… to…” Letting out a loud sob, she pressed her face into the man’s chest.

“Oh, jeez,” the janitor said. “Okay, okay, just… I could get in serious trouble for letting you back here. Bad enough I let Tiana and her friends run around wherever they want tonight. Uh… go in there,” he instructed, pointing a door with a women’s silhouette. “Should be quiet in the ladies room.”

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Ember sobbed, turning and heading quickly into the restroom. Once the staffer was out of sight, her tears immediately dried, and she pulled up her phone again. After a few rings, the call was answered.

“Hey, Mom!” Ember said, her voice bright and chipper. “Sorry, I was using the restroom when you called Melanie’s house.” Pause. “Ew, wow, that long ago? Yeah, I was in there for a while, I guess. We stopped at that new burger place on the way home from school… I wouldn’t recommend it. I won’t give you the grody details, but I’m feeling a lot better now that it’s out of my system.” Pause. “No, everything’s fine other than that! Melanie and I are just working on our homework, making sure we’re all ready to go for school. Hey, we still having taco night tomorrow?” Pause. “Awesome, looking forward to…”

Suddenly, from one of the stalls, came the loud, unmistakable sound of someone vomiting up their guts. Ember shot a glance over. “What? Oh, that’s… that’s Melanie’s brother in the bathroom now,” she quickly covered. “Yeah, he went to that same burger place we did… guess it made him pretty pukey.” Pause. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him. Alright, well, we better get back to finishing up this homework. Wouldn’t want our grades to slip, would we?” Pause. “Love you too, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me. I’ll see you both tomorrow after school!”

Hanging up, Ember breathed a sigh of relief. Passing by the stall, she gave a sharp knock. “Hey, be sure to drink some water. My mom says it helps to stay hydrated,” she advised, before noticing that the impact of her knuckles against the door had popped the latch on the stall door open. “Oops, they should probably fix that,” she said to herself, pulling the door back shut before she got a look at the poor wretch inside, and whatever technicolor explosion had been deposited in the toilet.

Glancing back through the bathroom door into the staff hallway, she saw that the coast was clear. She had to get back soon; if she didn’t hurry, somebody else was liable to scoop up that desperate MILF that Ember almost had in the bag. Ember was almost to the door back onto the club floor when someone called out.

“Hey!” said a familiar voice, and Ember turned to see the janitor from before. “Is everything okay? Did you talk to your mom? Listen, I’ll call up a SLEGWIT portal to the hospital if…”

“Oh, don’t bother. The bitch already croaked,” Ember said with a pleasant grin. “But thanks anyway.”

And before he could say anything else, she was already heading back out into the club.

“Shit, shit, please still be there. Please still be there,” Ember whispered to herself. Making her way as fast as she could towards the front, she checked the bar as soon as she could see it through the crowd. Phew, Marielle was still sitting in the same spot. With no need to rush now, Ember glanced back over to get another look at Annie and her new fashion sense, almost thinking she had been seeing things earlier.

But Annie was still there, still wearing that dress, although it looked like the guy had stepped away for a moment. Ember knew it was a risk, but part of her couldn’t resist commiserating with her fellow under-age clubgoer. Plus, making sure that Annie knew she had been spotted was potential “leverage” that Ember could make use of later, if the situation ever warranted it.

“Hey, how’s it going, Annie?” Ember said as she walked over to the table, glancing over at the bar to make sure Marielle didn’t see her talking to another high schooler. Would kinda give the game away, after all. “Loving the new look. Never was into the whole leather thing… well, not as far as jackets, anyway,” she let out a wry chuckle and gave Annie a pat on the shoulder.

Blinking slowly, Annie looked up at Ember, only the slightest hint of recognition in her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.

“Oh, and nice score on that guy,” Ember said, throwing up two thumbs. “Reminds me a bit of that one gym teacher we had that all the girls were crushing on. Well, until he transferred away under mysterious circumstances. Still... good on you, girl.”

Annie just stared at Ember, eyes dull and unfocused.

“Wow, she’s _totally_ wasted,” Ember thought to herself. “Probably should leave her to it, then.”

“Anyway, I’ve got my own hunk of mature meat waiting for me at the bar, so I’ll see you later,” Ember said, taking a step to walk away.

“Ember?” Annie finally spoke up, giving Ember a blankly confused look. “What’s going on?” she asked, looking down at her red dress like it had suddenly appeared on her. “Why am I dressed like this?”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing,” Ember said, suddenly getting a weird feeling in her gut. She wasn’t sure what this punk-turned-princess was on, but whatever it was, her date should probably be taking her home. Obviously, she had had way too much of… something, and needed to sleep it off before she did something she regretted.

She looked around the room, seeing if she saw the guy that had been with Annie earlier so she could give him a heads-up. Her eyes focused on the bar and… shit! Marielle was gone! She had just been there a second ago, so she couldn’t have gone far.

Ember looked back at Annie, still staring at her in numb confusion, and sighed in frustration. Whatever was going on with this girl, it really wasn’t Ember’s business anyway. She had bigger fish to fry.

“Well, I should get going,” Ember said, giving Annie another pat before rushing off. “See you at school tomorrow!”

Ember would remember those last words she spoke to Annie for a long, long time afterward.

* * *

Alison sat awkwardly on the couch, struggling to think of what to say next. Next to her, Alex sipped at his drink, feeling the silence as well.

Their group of six had gradually depleted to just the two of them as the night had continued, starting with Harmony fleeing to puke back in the employee restroom. Then Ashleigh had called it an early night, telling the rest of the group she had to wake up early to “start getting her signs ready.” She hadn’t offered any further details before making her exit. Not long after, Tiana had grabbed Chase by the hand and dragged him out to the dance floor. Currently, Tiana was swaying her hips to the throbbing beat, while Chase moved his arms in a vague approximation of what could be considered “dancing.”

Racking her brain, Alison finally remembered something. “Oh, how did things go with Dr. Orenstein earlier?” she asked Alex. “Did he find out what that light we saw in the sky was?”

“Oh, right,” Alex said. “Yeah, I swung by the lab after we finished the tour, but turned out he was still out in the field.” Pulling out his phone, he opened up his message app. “He sent me these pictures, though. Said he was finally able to locate what looked to be the impact site about a half mile or so in the woods outside campus.”

Alison stared at the picture taken by the professor. “Is that… a burn mark?” she asked Alex, studying the dark black spot in the picture.

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like to me, too,” Alex said, zooming in on the spot seared into the dirt and patchy grass. “The doc says he’s going to have to study the soil and figure out what might have landed there, but other than that mark in the grass, he said there was nothing there when he found the spot.”

Alison pointed a finger at the picture. “Look at that,” she said. “The shape of that hole there right outside the circle. There’s another one like it just a few feet away. Almost like…” she squinted her eyes. “Footprints?”

Alex looked closer. “No, couldn’t be,” he said. “Or if they are… those sure aren’t human footprints.” Glancing over at Alison, he laughed. “Jeez, listen to us. We keep this up, we’re going to end up as nutty as the doc. It was probably just a meteor that came down and disintegrated on impact. Happens all the time.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Alison said. As Alex closed his phone and returned it to his pocket, their awkward silence began again.

After a few moments, Alison started to speak. “Should I…”

“Do you want to…” Alex said the same time. Both of them stopped and laughed awkwardly. “Go ahead.”

“No, you go,” Alison said.

“I was just gonna ask… if you wanted to join Chase and Tiana out on the dancefloor,” Alex said, sounding hesitant about the prospect.

Alison immediately shook her head. “Oh, no no no. You don’t want to see that. My friends have told me that when I try to dance, it looks like…” she pointed out on the floor. “Well, it makes whatever Chase is doing out there look like a gymnastics routine.”

“Yeah, I’m not much better,” Alex said, a bit of relief in his voice. He played with the glass in his hand for a second, before turning back to Alison. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, I was going to ask if you think I should check on Harmony?” Alison asked. “She has been gone an awfully long time.”

Alex looked back at the “STAFF ONLY” door Harmony had entered a while back. “Yeah, maybe you should. Hopefully it’s not something serious.”

“Okay,” Alison nodded. “I just wasn’t sure if you were okay with me leaving you here by yourself.”

Alex gave her a nod. “It’s cool. I’ll stay here and keep anyone from stealing our spot. Go check on Harmony.”

Getting up, Alison cautiously moved through the crowd. Along the way, she felt someone bump into her roughly. Turning, she saw a dark-haired man with a drink in each of his heavily tanned hands.

“Apologize,” he said to her.

“I’m sorry,” she immediately responded. Wait, why was she apologizing? He bumped into her. But the words had come out of her mouth as if by instinct.

He stared at her, something frightening in his eyes. “Forget you saw me.”

Wait… why had she stopped in the middle of the club like this? She needed to go check on Harmony. Shaking her head and feeling a little bit groggy – it must have been the drinks – she found her way to the staff entrance and cautiously pushed the door open.

Peeking into the hallway they had entered through earlier, she saw no sign of Travis or any other employees. Scanning the area, she quickly spotted the ladies room. Trying her best to act like she belonged back here, Alison casually strolled to the restroom door, glancing around one more time before stepping inside.

“Harmony?” Alison called out, her voice echoing across the tile walls. “You okay in here?”

She was answered by the sound of one long, harsh retch. “Oh, Alison!” Harmony’s voice came from the one closed stall, her voice weak and sounding pained. “I believe... I believe I have almost completely emptied the contents of my stomach. I should be able to rejoin the party shortly.”

Moving over to the closed stall, Alison spoke to her new roommate through the door. “You need me to get you something? Some paper towels or some water or something?”

“Ah, yes,” Harmony said, miserable voice filled with a trace of hope that her digestive anguish could be relieved. “Someone’s mother did advise me to hydrate myself earlier. Perhaps some water would be helpful.”

Alison stared at the sink, but didn’t see any cups or other containers she could use. “Hold on, I’ll see if there’s a water cooler or something out in the hallway,” she called out.

Stepping out of the restroom, she almost ran headlong into Travis, Tiana’s friend who had let them in the back earlier. The young janitor looked annoyed at seeing her. “Are you kidding? I swear, is everyone going to hang out back here tonight?” he groused. “Look, you need to get out of here, okay? I could lose my job if somebody found out I let you in here.”

“Sorry, but my friend Harmony is still feeling pretty sick,” Alison said. “Is there someplace I can get some water for her?”

Travis groaned, but nodded. “Hold on. The last thing I need is for you to go wandering around back here. I’ll go get your friend some water, just… wait in the restroom. If somebody else comes around, hide in one of the stalls.” Shaking his head, Travis muttered as he left on his quest of hydration.

Heading back into the restroom, Alison leaned a hand against the door of Harmony’s stall. “Hey, Travis is going to get you some…”

She stumbled as the broken door latch popped, and the stall door sprung open. “Oh, crap,” Alison immediately muttered. “Sorry, I…”

Alison’s eyes went downward, to the huddled mass on the floor of the bathroom stall. And her mouth immediately opened, in preparation to let out a scream.

* * *

Dylan looked up from the bar as she approached. “Hey, there you are! You have any trouble getting in?”

The blond-haired woman in the tight dress laughed. “You kidding?” she said, reaching up to grab her sizable breasts, almost spilling out of her outfit. “These things are like bouncer repellant. One look and I just walk right through them.”

He gestured to a drink on the bar next to him. “Got you your favorite, baby,” he said with a grin.

“Aw, you remembered!” she said, sitting down next to him and sipping at the drink. “After all this time, too.”

“Yeah, it’s been hard, not being able to get my hands on that sexy body of yours all these months,” Dylan said, openly staring at her round backside on the barstool next to him. “But my boss finally came through on paying me for once. And as soon as I had money in my hand, I knew damn well where I wanted to spend it.”

She smirked at him. “Well, babe, you know what they say: business before pleasure. Not that I don’t trust that you’re good for it, but I’ve had too many guys these days thinking I’m a charity.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Dylan said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a plain white ATM envelope. Sticking his fingers inside, he slid out the bills, letting them spread so she could see the amount and denomination. “I got it covered.”

“Well, then. Looks like I’m all yours tonight,” she responded, boldly reaching down and placing her hand right between his legs. “Mmm, I missed this big guy. I’m thinking he must be missing me after all this time.”

“Desperately missing you,” Dylan agreed. “You booked the room already?”

She nodded and smiled. “Room 428 at the place across the street,” she said, sliding a hotel keycard in a paper envelope across the bar. “Settle your tab up and meet me there. Oh, and if you like my dress, you better take one last look at it,” she grabbed her glass and finished the rest of the drink in one swallow, giving him a wink as she got up from the bar and leaning in close to whisper. “Because I won’t be wearing anything but a smile the next time you see me.”

“Damn,” Dylan said, watching the sway of her walk as she casually sauntered out of the bar. “That ass is going to make me broke again, I just know it.”

He slapped some bills on the bar to pay for the drinks, and picked up the envelope with the room key. Flipping it over, he saw that she had pressed her lips against it, leaving the stain of her lipstick, along with writing a little note:

DON’T KEEP ME WAITING… XXX  
ISABELLA

* * *

Ambrose watched as two of his security team gathered up the last of the bills from the floor, before exiting the room and leaving him and his two associates alone.

“Shit, that fucking guy,” Lara muttered. “All that crap you were ready to give up, and…”

“And he was never going to take it,” Ambrose said, leaning back behind his desk. “I didn’t expect him to. But I had to at least make the attempt. His response otherwise might have been less favorable.”

Lara lit up another cigarette and scoffed. “Not sure how it gets any less favorable than what we got. I guess he didn’t piss on the money, at least.”

Ricardo nodded. “Lara, not to dispute your assessment of our encounter with Mr. Ariano, but I believe that went about as well as we could have hoped.”

Lara looked at Ambrose, confused. “Well? The guy is threatening to burn all your shit to the ground! That’s what you call ‘going well?’”

“He’s giving us a week to make things right,” Ambrose explained. “Which is honestly more than I expected him to give us. Ariano may be hot-headed, but he’s not stupid. He knows what the result would be of a war with our organization. It would be long, bloody, and most likely he would lose. But he can’t just sit back and let the death of Mr. Keenan go unchallenged. Not without appearing weak.” Ambrose clenched his hands in front of him, tapping the tips of his pointer fingers together as he pondered.

“Does he really think we did it, I wonder?” Ricardo mused.

“I don’t know. I think he _hopes_ we didn’t,” Ambrose replied. “The best result for everyone at this point would be for the culprit to be discovered, and for him to have no connection to us. It puts us in the clear, and keeps Ariano from having to commit to a bloody war for revenge. Which means our best bet at this point is to hope that the NPA does their job properly.”

Ricardo leaned back in his chair, swallowing hard before speaking. “Something we need to consider, boss. Like you said: a week is a long time. Enough time for us to get complacent, forget that we have a threat of death hanging over our heads. Could be that Ariano’s planning to go another route besides open warfare. He makes us think we’ve got time, lets us get distracted, and then strikes when we least expect it.”

Ambrose nodded. “Ariano thinks I killed one of his most trusted and loyal associates. If he plans to exact retributive justice, he would be likely to target one of you first. I’m going to order extra security around both of your houses immediately.”

Ricardo let out a long breath. “Appreciate it, boss. Me and the family will sleep easier tonight.”

Lara glared over at Ricardo. “Fucking whatever. Don’t even bother with extra security on my place. Ariano comes after me… I can handle him myself.”

“It’s up to you, Lara,” Ambrose responded. “If you change your mind, just give me a call. I can have men ready to go in a matter of seconds.”

Shrugging, Lara got to her feet. “You need me for anything else, boss? Otherwise, I’m gonna go make some calls, check with our boys and see if there’s any signs of Ariano pulling a sneak attack.”

Ambrose waved her away. “Have a safe evening, Lara.” Jabbing out her third cigarette of the night in an ashtray, Lara grabbed her jacket and headed out through the door.

Once she had left the office, Ambrose gave a sympathetic smile to Ricardo. “I think she’s still upset with you.”

Ricardo shrugged it off. “It’s to be expected. All things considered, I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that she hasn’t stabbed me yet.”

“Things are going well at home?” Ambrose asked.

“Yeah, I always said that place was too big and empty for me,” Ricardo said. “Working my hardest to fill it up a bit more.”

Ambrose’s smile faltered a bit. “And our deadline?”

“No change,” Ricardo sadly informed him. “I have Aegir re-run the data five times a day, every possible scenario. We never make it past the end of the year.”

Turning around in his chair, Ambrose stared out at the people on the dance floor. “We need to deal with this Ariano situation as soon as possible,” he said. “We have much more dire concerns to deal with without this… distraction weighing on us.”

“I’ll keep making waves,” Ricardo said. “See if I can find any sunken treasure. You need me for anything else tonight?”

Ambrose raised a hand. “You can go. Give all my love to Kyra.”

“I’ll give her a kiss just for you, boss,” Ricardo said. “But the rest will be for me, if that’s okay.”

Ambrose smiled slightly. “Have a good evening, Ricardo.”

Nodding, Ricardo departed quietly, leaving Ambrose alone in his office.

He sat for a while longer, watching the people as they danced, drank, and enjoyed the pleasure of life. Not a one of them knowing about the ticking clock hanging over all their heads.

Standing up slowly, Ambrose turned away from the window. He made his way over to a minibar at the corner of his office. Placing his hand on the top surface, he laid it down flat. There was a faint, almost inaudible click, and a hidden panel in the wall behind the bar softly slid open. Chilled, misty air spilled out and blew in his face, as Ambrose reached into the wall crevice to retrieve one of an array of green, opaque glass bottles.

Pulling out the stopper, Ambrose upended the bottle directly into his mouth. Thick, red fluid flowed down his throat, and he made a raspy gasp as he felt the familiar pain of his front teeth sharpening into fangs.

* * *

Jason had lost track of how long he walked. He had no idea where he was. Like Celina Waters after she got that letter from the NPA, he just needed to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

_“There’s someone on the water.”_

_She was on the kitchen floor. Unmoving. Blood leaking out of the ragged hole torn through her head by the high-caliber bullet._

_And kneeling beside her, Gina wailed in unimaginable grief, shrieks that pierced through him like spears. “Mommy! Mommy!”_

He blinked, realizing where he was. A chill went through his body as he saw where he had gone, almost by instinct.

Fortuna’s famous Leipziger Bridge. It was a popular tourist spot, one of the tallest pedestrian bridges on the entire Network, offering a fabulous view of the flowing Kamer River more than 100 feet below. But it was famous – or rather infamous – for another reason. A reason that had given it its nickname: the Lifestealer Bridge. With the great economic options and general standard of living that being a “citizen of the Network" offered, suicide was a much rarer occurrence then it was in other areas of the world. But it still happened, and the Leipziger Bridge was one of the most popular destinations for it.

Jason had been here a few times after she was gone. But he’d only visited. Only stared down into the cloudy water flowing underneath the elevated concrete walkway, with its disturbing lack of safety barriers or nets. Never once had he sat down on one of the 4’ tall barriers that were the only thing separating the people crossing the bridge from a long plunge to the frigid depths below. Never once had he swung his feet around to the other side, and thought about how easy it would be to just solve so many problems with just one quick push. Not once did he assure himself that it would be over quick once he did it. That a fall that far, he would hit the water at more than 70 miles per hour. His organs would be pulverized, his bones shattered. All of it would be over in an instant.

No. Never once had he done that. Or thought about doing that. All he’d done was stand there, staring out as the river wove its path underneath him. Just like he was doing now.

_“There’s someone on the water.”_

Letting out a long, heavy breath, Jason rubbed at his eyes. “Get it together, man,” he muttered to himself. He turned away from the side of the bridge, ready to head to a street where he could call a SLEGWIT. He looked over at the place where the bridge met the solid ground…

“Ah, jeez,” he exclaimed, jumping back in surprise.

There was a man standing there. Jason had been so lost in his memories, he hadn’t even heard him approach.

The mysterious figure was bundled up in a heavy jacket, a wide brimmed hat pulled down low, obscuring his face in the dim shadows of the evening. He stood motionless, and although Jason couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, he could feel that the stranger was staring directly at him.

As Jason studied the stranger, he heard him speak three words: “Drop the case.”

Jason squinted. “Excuse me?”

“Drop the Waters case,” the man repeated. The voice was strange, with something that sounded like a distortion effect you would hear on an audio recording. Except this was a live person’s voice. “You will not find what you are looking for. Drop the case.”

“Who the hell are you?” Jason asked. “What do you know about Merlin Waters?”

The man did not respond. Instead, he turned away from Jason, opening a gate at the side of the bridge that allowed access to a metal stairway, leading down into the darkness under the bridge.

“Hey!” Jason yelled out, moving to pursue the man. “Hey, wait!” As he rushed to the open gate, he could hear the mysterious man’s footsteps echoing as he went down the metal stairs. Jason squinted his eyes down into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of the fleeing stranger, but the stairs were almost completely obscured in shadow.

His heart thumping, Jason dashed down the stairs in pursuit, the sound of the other man’s footsteps only a short distance ahead of him. The stairs ended in a walkway that wrapped around one of the support structures of the bridge, which Jason jogged across until he reached another staircase, leading further down. Up ahead, he could still hear the fleeing stranger in the distance, his footsteps rapid.

“Stop, goddamnit,” Jason barked out, moving quickly down the second flight of stairs onto another walkway. The sound of the footsteps stopped, and Jason wondered if his command had actually worked.

He rushed to the end of the next walkway, expecting another flight of stairs to descend further.

But… there was nothing. The only thing at the end of the walkway was a metal railing. Nowhere else to go.

And no sign of the mysterious man.

“That’s… that’s not possible,” Jason muttered, staring around in confusion. There was nowhere else for the man to have gone. Except…

Walking up to the railing, Jason stared down into the flowing Kamer River. “He couldn’t have,” Jason muttered to himself. Even after the descent down the stairs, it was still one hell of a drop to the water below. No one could have possibly survived it.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jason asked the empty space where the man should had been. “What the hell is this case, anyway?”

But the empty space didn’t have any answers for him.

* * *

It was blue.

That was the first thing Alison noticed, even as her mind reeled in shock at what she was seeing. Its skin was blue and translucent, giving her a horrifying view of the musculature underneath. Its limbs seemed to bend in odd ways as it slumped on the bathroom floor by the toilet, the thing’s form contorting in a way that no human would be able to imitate.

And the eyes. Pure black with blue veins running across the surface that seemed to almost glow in the harsh fluorescent light of the restroom. The eyes blinked at her, watching her reaction in blank confusion.

“Alison, what are you doing in here?” the thing in the stall said, speaking with the voice of the person she knew as Harmony. “Have you brought my water?”

As Alison was taking in her breath to scream, the thing’s terrifying eyes went wide, as if realizing what Alison was seeing. In an inhuman flash, just before Alison’s cry escaped her throat, it jumped to its feet, clamping one of its bizarre, long-fingered hands over her mouth.

“No, no, please, please, don’t scream,” the thing said. Harmony said. This thing was Harmony, that much was clear. Despite the shifts in its form, it was still wearing the same clothes that the person she had known as Harmony was wearing earlier.

But what was she? Alison’s eyes were wide and terrified, as Harmony’s hand pressed tightly against her face, clamping her mouth shut. “Alison, Alison, listen to me. I know this is shocking to you, but I need you to be calm, okay? I’ll explain everything, but you need to promise me that you won’t scream. Okay, can you promise me that? Please, Alison, I need you to do this for me.”

Alison heard something in this thing that called itself Harmony’s voice at that moment. Anxiety, desperation and… fear. Fear that sounded even more intense that what Alison was feeling right at that moment.

Unbelievably, Alison found herself nodding. The odd thing released its grip on her mouth, and she took in a deep breath.

“Thank you,” the thing that was apparently Harmony said. “I’m sorry. This is a lot for you to take in at once, I’m sure. Ugh, I guess my form shift must have slipped while I was puking,” Harmony said, more to herself than Alison. “I should have known better,” the thing muttered, slumping down to sit on the toilet. “What was I thinking, drinking so much human alcohol?”

Alison stammered. “H… human alcohol?”

Looking up at her, a smirk crossed the things odd, lipless mouth. “Yeah, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly one of your kind.”

“You… that light in the sky,” Alison said, finally understanding. “That scorch mark in the woods. And those weird footprints. That was you. An alien _did_ come to this planet today.”

The alien nodded. “Yeah, the intergalactic transit beam isn’t exactly subtle, I know. But I figured, as long as I got out of there quickly enough, nobody’d catch on until I was long gone and mingling on campus along with everyone else.”

Something was nagging at Alison. Well, other than the obvious part: that she was standing in a bathroom stall with a visitor from another planet. Finally, it hit her. “You… your speech,” she said. “You’re not…”

“Not what?” Harmony asked with a chuckle. “Doing the ‘I am a foreign individual who talks in a stilted fashion to indicate that I do not understand your strange culture’ thing anymore?” Leaning back on the toilet, Harmony let out a long breath from her alien lungs. “Yeah, I figured that would help cover for any slip-ups I made while I was down here. You know, I screw up some weird piece of your planet’s etiquette or hold up my fingers in the wrong order or something, I could say,” she spoke in the fashion that Harmony had before, halting and uncertain. “‘Oh, is that how it is in your culture? Thank you so much for educating me, kind person.’”

Alison was feeling her fear replaced by an odd sense of confusion. What was this strange alien being… and why was she talking like some random person Alison might have met out on the street?

“Look, thanks for not freaking out,” Harmony the alien said. “But I’m gonna need to ask you to keep this under wraps for me. If anybody found out I was here, like Alex and his ET-hunting professor, things could get really bad for me. I promise that…”

The door to the restroom opened, and Travis called out. “Hey, I got your water! How you feeling in here?”

Harmony let out a sound that Alison had to assume was some sort of curse word in her native tongue. “Shut the door, shut the door quick,” she hissed to Alison. Alison blinked in surprise, but then quickly complied, pushing the light metal door shut and trying her best to refasten the broken latch.

Getting back up on her feet, Harmony pushed in close to Alison. “Can’t let him see me, try to keep your body between me and the door,” she advised.

“Hey, what the…” Travis said, seeing no sign of either woman and one stall door closed. He leaned down and saw the two sets of feet. “You don’t need to hide,” he reassured them. “It’s just me. And when I said to duck into a stall if somebody came in, I didn’t mean the _same_ stall.”

“It is fine!” Harmony said, her speech immediately regaining its previous halting syntax. “If you would please be so kind as to slide the water underneath the stall barrier, I would be most grateful to you.”

Travis walked over to the stall where Harmony and Alison hid. “Hey, what are you two doing in there?”

Harmony let out a hiss. “He’s trying to look through the crack,” she whispered to Alison. “Block it, block it.” Alison shifted, pushing her body against one of the gaps between the door and the divider to obstruct Travis’s view. Out loud Harmony announced, “It is nothing. Alison and I are… are having sexual relations inside of this restroom stall!” Alison stared at the alien woman in disbelief, and Harmony mimed a mouth-shutting motion with her overly long fingers. “Yes, please give us our privacy as we achieve climax with each other.”

“Ah, jeez,” Travis said. “No pussy is good enough to have to deal with this bullshit.” Leaning down, he rolled the bottled water he had grabbed for Harmony under the stall. “Whatever the hell you’re doing, just get done quick and get out of here. And tell Tiana that I’m not doing any more favors for her after tonight.”

“We appreciate your discretion as we continue our consensual lesbian encounter, kind sir,” Harmony called out. “We will finish up with our lovemaking as quickly as possible.”

Grunting, Travis exited the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, Alison glared at Harmony. “That was your best idea?” she asked incredulously. “Pretend we were having sex?”

“Well, what else would the two of us be doing in the same stall, genius?” Harmony countered. “And besides… don’t you humans normally give other humans their privacy when they’re having sex?”

“Most do, but there are definitely some who wouldn’t,” Alison explained. “You’re lucky he wasn’t the type to try and get a quick peek at us.”

Harmony shrugged… the alien shrugged. It shrugged at her, like that was just a normal thing for an alien to do. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? Here, hand me that water,” she said, extending one of her bizarrely-shaped hands.

Alison crouched down, picking up the plastic bottle. “So… are you ever going to turn back to…” Alison started to say “normal,” but it occurred to her that “normal” for the person she knew as Harmony was what she was currently seeing. “…to how you looked before?”

“Yeah, just give me a second,” Harmony responded, accepting the water from Alison and popping it open to drink. “It’s actually not hard for my race to keep a new form in place, but when we lose it, it takes a bit of concentration to get it back.”

Alison shook her head, leaning against one of the stall walls. “This is nuts. I knew college would be a new experience, but this? My roommate is a freaking shapeshifting alien.”

“Look at it another way,” Harmony responded, swallowing down a mouthful of water. “Your roommate is a freaking shapeshifting alien… who’s going to owe you one hell of a debt after all of this is over.”

“Well, what’s ‘all of this’?” Alison asked. “What are you even doing here? Just… going to college? Human college or whatever? Are you staying here for four years, or do your credits transfer back to your home planet?” Alison rolled her eyes in disbelief at her own words.

“Hold on,” Harmony said, holding up a hand. Her brow furrowed in concentration. “I think… mmmnnngh…” As Alison watched in awe, Harmony’s body began undulating and re-sculpting itself. In the span of just a few seconds, the odd alien being was replaced by the beautiful blond woman Alison had met earlier that day. “Theeerrre we go,” Harmony said. “Listen, we should get out of here before the cleaning guy comes back.”

“Wait, hold on,” Alison said, as Harmony stood up. “I still have no clue what’s going on here. Why are you here? Where are you from?”

Harmony laid one of her reshaped human-like hands on Alison’s shoulder. ”Look, in return for you keeping my secret, I’m happy to give you all the details. But not tonight. Tonight, I just want to get back to the dorm and get some sleep. But I swear to you, Alison: on the spirit of the great god Grizznax Poxhunax, that I will tell you the whole story after I’ve gotten some rest.”

Alison was still feeling stunned, but she numbly nodded her head. “Right, okay. I can’t wait to hear all about it, first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

“Thanks again,” Harmony said, then gave her a guilty smile and added. “Oh, and Grixnax Postulax or whatever I just said… I just made that up. I was gonna do this whole bit where I pretended he was this god we worshipped on my home planet, but I just realized I completely forgot what I said the first time and I would have just screwed the whole thing up.”

Alison felt a smile creeping to her face. It was such a bizarre situation, finding out her roommate was a visitor from another planet. But in spite of it all… she realized she was starting to like Harmony.

* * *

He came back, a drink in each hand, laying one in front of her.

“What am I doing here?” Annie asked, voice getting frantic. “Who are you? Please, just…”

“Calm down,” he said. And she calmed down. Why had she gotten so worked up before? It was silly of her. So silly.

He gestured to the drink in front of her.

“Um,” Annie said. “I don’t really…”

“Drink,” he told her. For once, however, she didn’t obey right away, rubbing at the faded mark on the back of her hand. “Drink,” he said again, and Annie picked up the glass and drank. “You like it.”

She did like it. All this time, and after finally doing it… she wasn’t sure what the big deal was. It was fine. All of this was fine.

“So, Annie,” he said. “You were telling me you were having a lot of odd dreams lately. Give me more details.”

“I… don’t remember them completely,” she said, staring blankly at nothing in particular as she spoke. “I’m somewhere dark and cold. So cold. I hear voices. I think they’re voices, but they’re not saying words. It’s like… like a screeching sound. The sound is… angry. Angry at me, and at everyone else. It hurts to listen to. And I see… eyes. Eyes everywhere, thousands… millions of them watching me. And it lasts so long. I feel like I’m in the dream for hours. Days. And I wake, and I’m in my bed… but I still see the eyes.”

He nodded. “And when you have these dreams, are you Annie?”

The question confused her, but she heard herself answering. “No. I’m not Annie,” she quietly said, the words feeling like they were being yanked painfully from deep in her subconscious mind. “I’m… I’m not the me that I am now. I’m the me that was. The me that was part of him. Separate yet together. It’s my…”

“That’s enough,” he said. “Have another drink.”

She drank, the gesture automatic and robotic. Only vaguely did she notice that someone had walked up to their table. “Good evening, folks,” said the man in the white shirt and black vest. “Is your companion old enough to drink, sir? I think I might need to see some ID.”

“You already saw her ID,” her date said. “She’s 18 years old. You should apologize for bothering us.”

“I… already saw the ID, you’re right,” the club employee slowly recited. “My apologies, you’re obviously old enough, ma’am. Sorry for disturbing you.”

Annie turned to the man and, with all the effort she could muster, forced out the words. “Help… me...”

Just as the employee’s eyes went wide, her date said, “You didn’t hear that,” and his expression returned to normal. “You should make up for bothering us by paying for my tab this evening.”

“My apologies again for the disturbance,” the man said. “To make up for it, I’d be happy to cover your tab for this evening.”

“Thank you,” her date said. “Go away now.”

Nodding, the employee walked away. Once he was gone, her date reached into a pocket of his jacket, retrieving what appeared to be a small white pill. He dropped it in her drink, and it quickly dissolved.

“Finish your drink,” he told her, and Annie picked up her glass, swallowing the rest. The sweet liquor had taken on a bitter taste. She felt a strange tingle running through her body. Felt kind of nice.

“Well, Annie,” he said. “You’ve done very well tonight. I think you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.”

This made her smile. She was happy when he was happy. So happy.

“Your friend who called earlier, she said the two of you were supposed to see a show. Would you like to go to that show now, Annie?”

She sat, mouth hanging open, waiting.

“You want to go to that show,” he said, and she nodded in agreement.

“Well, we should get going, then,” he said. “Stand up, Annie.” Annie stood up. “Follow me.”

She followed him.

* * *

Marielle watched as Ember scanned around by the bar, searching for her. It gave her a bit of a thrill to see the look of frustration on the young woman’s face. Ember had spent all night thinking she was leading Marielle around by a leash with all her flirty talk and bold come-ons. Marielle enjoyed seeing the little thing squirm for a bit.

After a minute or so, she finally called out from the couch she had moved to while Ember was away. “Ember! Over here!” she called out. Ember searched for the sound of her voice, and grinned once she saw Marielle through the crowd.

“Hey, there you are,” Ember said, tossing herself down on the couch next to Marielle. “Was beginning to wonder if I was going nuts, and that hot piece of ass I was talking to all night was just a really vivid fantasy.”

Marielle chuckled, taking a swallow of her third chilcano of the evening. “No, I’m very real,” she said. “So… any new guesses for our little game?”

“No,” Ember said. “No more guesses.”

“Aw, you give up?” Marielle chided her.

Ember shook her head. “No… I never give up. But I think we’re done with any more games tonight.” Ember’s eyes locked on Marielle’s, her stare smoldering with intensity. “Look, you know what I want. I haven’t exactly been subtle about it. And maybe you’re still a little unsure about what you want. But trust me: whatever it is, I can give it to you. So how about we stop dancing around it and just put it out there?” Reaching down, Ember boldly laid her hand on Marielle’s crossed leg, stroking up and down the bare flesh just below the hem of her skirt. “You want to get out of here with me?”

Marielle watched Ember’s hand boldly fondling her upper thigh. The girl was good, Marielle had to give her that. She saw Marielle’s relocation to a different spot in the club for what it was: a play to take charge of their little flirting game. And immediately, she made a move to reassert her dominance. Ember was forcing the issue, making Marielle choose between walking away, or taking that last step.

“So,” Marielle said, cocking her head and arching her brow. “This is where that Moment of yours happens, huh?”

“Yep,” Ember put extra emphasis on the ‘p,’ popping out her lips. “It’s Moment time, Marielle. Which way is it gonna go?”

Marielle bit her lip. Reaching down to Ember’s teasing hand, she placed her own hand on top of it. Leaning in close to Ember, she whispered in her ear. “Let’s go back to your place. I wanna see how well you can please a lady, Ember.”

“Mmm, give me a sec to go settle up the tab,” Ember said. Her hand moved from Marielle’s thigh to her cheek, as she leaned in. Their lips met briefly, and when Ember pulled away, she was wearing a smile of satisfying victory. “Don’t you dare move this time,” she breathed, before slowly sliding off the couch.

Marielle watched Ember walk away towards the bar, feeling herself buzzing from a combination of the liquor she had consumed that night, and anticipation of what was to come. She was pretty sure that Ember was full of shit, and that after all of this, their sex that night would be standard at best. Still… this girl was fun.

Ember returned quickly, extending a hand to help Marielle to her feet. When Ember pulled her up, she pulled her in close, kissing her again.

“You were wrong about one thing, Ember,” Marielle thought to herself, as the younger woman pressed her body, and lips, tightly against her. “The Moment… it was when you asked me my name, and I didn’t walk away. Because from that point, this night was only ever going to go one way.” She remembered the wide smile Ember had given her then, as she said her own name back. “Or maybe _I’m_ wrong. Maybe you knew that already, right from the start.”

Ember finally pulled away. “Let’s go,” she said, quietly but close to Marielle’s ear to make sure she heard it over the loud club music. Marielle nodded, and Ember took her by the hand and led her to the exit.

Once they were out on the street, Ember suddenly paused. “Oh, shit, one thing,” she said. “Uh… my place isn’t really an option. See, I just moved into this room in the basement of that convent in Vierraden.”

Marielle nodded, playing along with Ember’s little game. “And the nuns wouldn’t approve of such depravity, I get you.”

“Nah, not that, it’s just… well, I’m fucking a few of them on the side, so if one on them sees me bringing home someone else,” Ember shook her head helplessly. “You understand, real potential for drama.”

“Fine, my place then,” Marielle said, pulling up her phone to summon the SLEGWIT. “Hope you don’t mind, it’s a bit of a mess.”

“Aren’t we all, Marielle,” Ember said with a grin. “Aren’t we all.”

* * *

“We’re here, Annie,” he said, and she stopped in her tracks.

Annie looked around, confused. They weren’t at the show. They hadn’t even left Fortuna. He had led her onto a tall bridge high over the river. “Why did we come here?”

“You asked me to bring you here, remember?” he said. “It’s the rock show, don’t you see it?” He pointed off the side of the bridge. “Over there, the band is playing.”

She stared, and suddenly, she did see it. She was in that basement venue over in Valley Green, and Deep Fear was up on stage, back together again after so long. “Awesome,” she softly said to herself, as she felt the kickass music from the giant amps rattling her entire body. Deep Fear were playing one of her favorites, an obscure cut off their first EP that they almost never did in concert. It was silly, but part of her felt like they were playing it just for her.

She blinked, her eyes doing weird things as she watched the band play. One minute she would see them, the next it would look like the Fortuna skyline, glowing vividly and reflecting in the water below. Might have had something to do with that pill he put in her drink. Ever since she had swallowed that, she had been feeling strange. Like she was moving in slow-motion, her brain struggling to process everything that was happening around her.

But it didn’t matter. She was at the show.

“It’s the best show you’ve ever seen,” he said softly to her. “So good that you want to get up on the stage and watch.”

And it was the best show she had ever seen. It was so good, Annie suddenly felt the urge to get up on stage to watch it closer.

Annie slowly walked through the crowded mosh pit, the people moving aside to let her pass. One of the security guys in front of the stage saw her coming and gave her a nod. Rather than shove her back like the jerk security assholes at these shows usually did, he moved the metal barrier aside for her.

She was right up by the stage now, staring up at the band as they played. Mark Hayward saw her and waved his hand upward. “Get up here, Annie,” the tattoo-covered lead singer called out over the mic. “A punk as badass as you deserves to be up on stage with us.”

She placed her hands on the edge of the four-foot high wooden stage, lifting herself up on top. The people were cheering for her as she made her way up onto her feet. She started to turn around, but then she heard his voice. “You’re already facing the crowd, Annie.”

She blinked, feeling disoriented again, but her vision quickly refocused. She was standing on the edge of the stage, looking out over the bouncing, moshing crowd. And now… they were cheering for her. Pumping their fists in the air as she stared out at them all. She felt Jimmy Whittle take his hand off the fretboard of his bass long enough to give her a hard, encouraging slap on the back.

“Stage dive,” said the voice of her date somewhere below her. And soon, the whole crowd joined in. “STAGE DIVE! STAGE DIVE! STAGE DIVE!”

But one voice didn’t join in. She wasn’t sure how she heard it over the loud music and booming chant of the crowd. But there was one tiny voice, somewhere in the back. A small girl’s voice, sounding she was crying. “Don’t do it… don’t do it… please don’t jump… stop stop stop stop you’re going to die you’re going to die you’re going to die…”

Annie sneered. She wasn’t going to die. She’d done this tons of times before. Who let this whiny little baby into the show? The worst part was… the little baby’s voice sounded a lot like hers.

“STAGE DIVE! STAGE DIVE! STAGE DIVE!” the crowd continued to chant. Annie watched them all with a grin, raising her arms and pumping her fists in the air, as she let out a triumphant yell.

Then she spotted a face in the crowd. Her best friend Rayne, waving to her encouragingly, joining in on the chant. Rayne was so awesome. Annie remembered earlier that night, when she had hung up on her in the club. She told herself that after this, she was going to go apologize. Tell Rayne what a good friend she was, and how lucky Annie was to have her in her life.

The chant had changed now. “ANNIE! ANNIE! ANNIE! ANNIE!” the crowd shouting her name in unison. It mixed with the music playing to sound like it was a song just for her.

It was such an awesome moment. Annie felt a tickle on her cheek, and realizing that she was crying. Jeez, why was she crying? Rayne was gonna make fun of her so bad for this.

Below her, she heard his voice. One last time.

“Jump.”

She jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun. Think I might keep doing it for a while.


	10. SLEGWIT NAQ (Nobody Asked Questions)

**So, what the hell did I just read?**

Hoo boy. Where to begin?

Well, after things didn't work out with that audio drama project a while back (for a lot of reasons, a good portion of which were my own damn fault), I was in a pretty bad funk as far as creativity. I spent most of the time after my big "sign-off" post on Tumblr just doing nothing in particular. Played a bunch of Overwatch and Dead Cells (one of these days, I'm going to finish a 2BC run, I swear), watched a lot of YouTube, and just kinda got depressed when I thought of trying to write anything else. Not to get too heavy about things, but it wasn't a good time for me, emotionally as well as creatively.

Then I got really into the Sims 4.

And I mean _really_ into it. A lot of people might start one family and just play for a while. At last count of my current save, I have 98 households that I've actively played at one time or another. Granted, most of them I would only play for an in-game day or so to set up their careers and relationships, and then let them roam around as background "townies" for my other households to interact with. But I ended up creating my own little world of characters, ones that I started inventing backstories for in my mind as I watched them interact, form relationships, and generally do the things that The Sims characters do (especially with a ton of gameplay mods installed).

And these backstories, as well as the stories the Sims were telling me in their random encounters and interactions with each other, started growing, and growing. To the point where it came into my head for the first time in a while that, "You know... I should start writing this down."

In fact, the basic premise of the whole "SLEGWIT Network" in this story came from a random thought exercise, based on one of the weird quirks of how the Sims 4 operates. "So, my sim wants to go to another lot. They pull out their phone, the map comes up, and I pick where they want to go. And they arrive there, at pretty much exactly the same time they left the original lot. How is that possible?" I'm sure in the world of the Sims 4, this is supposed to represent your character calling a taxi or rideshare, but that issue with the lack of time passing just kept nagging at me. In some cases, people would be moving from a normal, American-style suburb, to a island paradise or a jungle deep in fake South America, with a minute passing at most. There had to be an explanation for this. There just had to!

Eventually, this idea formed in my head of, "What if they're not calling a car? But they're using their phones to trigger some sort of... portable teleporter or something?" Teleportation is canon in the world of the Sims 4, after all, so what if it's just been made available for public use? And once I had that idea, I started thinking to myself, "Who created this device? How has it changed this world and how it operates? And what if there's some dark secret hovering around the function of these teleporters?"

And that, mixed with all of the storylines I had been running with my various sim households, led to SLEGWIT.

**Looks like this should be in the Sims section of this site, then. Why isn't it there?**

I debated this with myself for a while. In the end, I decided to categorize this as an "Original Work" for a few reasons:

  * One of the first things I did when I created my new save in the Sims 4, was delete every single "canon" Sims character. I felt like I wanted to tell my own stories, with the characters I had come up with (somewhat... see a later question for some of the dicier aspects of that), and not have Mary Landgraab or Vladislaus Straud poking their noses around my business. So they were all gone, even sims that don't live in households like the sages from Realms of Magic and tray sims that might get assigned to houses. And my thought when deciding what category to use when posting this was, if somebody comes to this site and goes to the "Sims" category, they're probably looking to read stories about characters from the Sims. Not just a bunch of OCs that some random dude created, who live in a universe that only vaguely resembles and operates like the Sims 4. And since none of those EA-made sims are in my game or story... well, probably not worth it to waste the time of all the Morgyn Ember fans out there. (They are mighty dreamy, though...)
  * Going back to the "vaguely resembles" thing above: In the process of turning this into a story, I ended up revising and flat-out ripping out a lot of the aspects of the Sims 4 universe that didn't work for what I was creating. In the end, pretty much the only major things that carried over from the Sims 4 to the world of SLEGWIT are: 
    * The general occult sim types from the Sims 4 (vampires, aliens, spellcasters, mermaids, and ghosts) will all be factors in the story at some point or another. Although they will bear little resemblance to how these types of characters actually operate in the game itself. (When mermaids start making themselves known... hoo boy, that's gonna be fun.)
    * Many of the cities on the Network are based on the fifteen current worlds of The Sims 4. Some of them are fairly close (San Myshuno -> Chapel City, Selvadorada -> Huaca Brava, etc.), while others bear little resemblance to their in-game counterparts (Fortuna is actually my version of Magnolia Promenade, only because the best nightclub in my save game is there, and I ended up reworking it in my mind into kind of a Las Vegas/French Riviera style location as I wrote it)
    * A good numbers of the characters in this story work the same occupations they work in my Sims 4 game (mostly in-game ones, but a few CC careers as well). So a lot of familiar job types for Sims 4 players.
    * Families and roommates exist, and live in houses and apartments with each other. A revolutionary concept that only the Sims has managed to capture up to this point.
  * And the biggest part is, ultimately, I just want this story to stand on its own. I'm sure I could get a bunch more eyeballs on it by throwing it into the Sims category, but for the reasons above, I just don't think it's appropriate there. I actually considered starting up an entirely new AO3 profile to post this on, and just make a fresh start. But I keep seeing people leaving kudos on my old works every so often, and figured, "Hey, maybe you all might be interested in what this weirdo is working on now."



**Exactly how dirty is this going to get, anyway?**

As you might have noticed reading the story, I'm going to follow a general procedure of separating off all explicit sex scenes into "Wicked Interludes," named after that most essential of all Sims 4 mods, WickedWhims. (And a good part of the reason why I got into playing that game so much. Just as much fun to tell stories with the characters, as it is to watch them fuck on every piece of furniture known to man.)

I figured this works well for whatever sort of reader I might attract to this story. If you end up enjoying the story, and don't want to delve too deeply into some of my kinkier fetishes, just skip over the Wicked Interludes, as for the most part there won't be any important plot points included in those scenes, and anything that does come up will be repeated in non-wicked chapters. And, if you just like reading my smut and don't give a damn about the plot, just check out the interludes... although I imagine they might not be as entertaining if you're just reading about a bunch of random characters screwing. And if you're a long-time NOM reader who likes both the stories and the smut, well, it's all there for you.

Also, as far as the more "extreme" fetishes I've indulged in in past stories (as in mind control, sexual slavery and assault, futanari and incestuous encounters), these aspects could come up in future interludes. But I'll be sure to include content warnings at the end of any interludes that include the more extreme fetishes, just so you can check before reading and avoid them at your preference. (The reason they're at the end instead of the beginning: As was demonstrated with the second interlude of this part, content warnings can sometimes spoil what's going to happen. If you don't have any particular triggers or content issues, I'd recommend just reading the interlude as is. Just to be clear, fetishes that I've never delved into in the past and have no interest in, like bathroom play, blood play, and straight up snuff/guro, will never show up, so fear not on those.)

**Great, NakedOwlMan is taking on another massive writing project... how long until you get burnt out and abandon this one?**

That's very rude, anonymous person I made up. And also a very fair question.

I'm going to say this: right now, this project has me as jazzed about writing as I was when I hammered out Making A Mistake in a few days. The 60,000 or so words that are posted above this were typed out in the span of about a week and a half, which should give you an idea of my current writing drive. Part of my deal with myself before deciding to actually start posting again was that I had to "prove" to myself that I was serious about this. Going forward, I will probably post individual chapters as they're finished, but I decided I would absolutely finish Part 1 completely before posting a single word of SLEGWIT for the first time.

So, considering I wrote the equivalent of a smallish novel in about 12 days (the quality of which is debatable, but whatever, quantity over quality), I'm thinking I'm going to keep going on this story for at least a little while longer. But I know myself well enough to know that the buzz might fade eventually. And I've at least learned one lesson from where Slaves of Cerberus went wrong. So for SLEGWIT, I'm following the same policy that TV show producers have when creating a new series that might run for ten years, or get cancelled after one season: I'm making sure that I have an "escape hatch." If at any time I feel the burnout setting in, and think I'm not going to be able to drive myself to finish the entire scope of what I have planned, I have several points at which the story can come to a natural endpoint. Like that show that gets cancelled before season 2, though, I can't promise that all of the unfinished plot threads will be resolved if I cut things off early. But at least I will have a conclusion I can give you all, so that you won't feel like you totally wasted your time taking a chance on this crazy new project of mine.

**Will you be releasing any of the sims from this story on the gallery, or as a separate download?**

Well, here's where things get a bit tricky. I didn't actually set out to use my Sims 4 game as the basis for a work of fiction when I started playing. And as someone who gets most of his enjoyment out of watching the characters interact with each other, and not so much on the actual process of playing around in CAS or building houses, there were quite a few occasions where I got lazy. "Oh, I want to have a vampire hunter type character in my game for this plot I'm working around in my head? Let me just look up 'vampire hunter' on the gallery and see what looks good."

As a result of this, and due to having so many goddamn sims in my game at this point, I've almost completely lost track of which sims are actually ones I created from scratch or by playing with genetics, and which ones I downloaded from the gallery to fill roles in my head-canon stories. And considering some of the dirty business these characters will be getting up to in my stories, it would be pretty shitty of me to take some poor, innocent Sims player's uploaded characters, possibly even based on themselves, and say, "Hey, this is that girl who took three cocks in her ass in that one wicked interlude for you to download, enjoy!"

That said, I know of at least some characters in my game that are definitely either ones I made myself, or which are children of other characters and could be considered "original," more or less. One of the other issues, though, is that I have an assload of CC in my game to account for (kinda like that girl who took three cocks up there, remember her?), but I could always use S4TI to package up any custom content I used if there's that much demand.

(Of course, all of this is under the assumption that anyone else out there actually ends up giving as much of a damn about these characters as I do. Which is a pretty big assumption.)

**Is there any chance you might go back to writing Mass Effect smut at this point?**

You know, I would always answer questions like this with, "Probably not, but you never know." And a few of those times, I actually meant that.

But this time.. no. Nope, nada, zero chance of me going back to writing anything else about big blue cocks or Shepard and her friends being forced to submit.

Sorry if that answer disappoints you. But I really don't think I have any drive left to play around with those same old characters, over and over again. You probably could have guessed that with how many freaking OCs I ended up inserting into SoC by the end of it; I guess I should have figured out for myself at that point that I was pretty much done with Mass Effect world.

Part of what energizes me so much about SLEGWIT is that it's my own world (well... mostly), with my own characters to define and develop how I see fit. But if you were a fan of mine for my work in the Mass Effect universe, I understand if you're not interested in this latest endeavour of mine. Just give it a shot if you've enjoyed my writing at any point, and if it isn't for you, no hard feelings.

**...The hell kind of word is "SLEGWIT?" Does it actually mean something?**

Oops, sorry, looks like we're all out of time. See you for Part 2!


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